Spider on the Hellmouth
by Loyal Eskamoe
Summary: For her own protection, MaryJane must go to Sunnydale. But she's not going alone.
1. Chapter 1

Spider-Man and all affiliated characters are the property of Marvel Comics. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all affiliated characters are the property of Joss Whedon.

For USM, this story takes place after the Carnage story line. For BTVS, this takes place after the episode 'Conversations With Dead People.'

-

The time was right, he could feel it. The city that oppressed him for so long, shall suffer his revenge! He stood. A figure of rage and hate. Even now the people looked upon his visage with fear. He opened his mouth and spoke mighty words.

"Flee! Flee from the might of the Spot!"

The people of Queens, New York stopped what they were doing to see who was speaking. Then they laughed their heads off. The Spot was dressed in an off-white leotard covered in black dots. His mask was just one big black dot over his face.

The Spot sneered. "Laugh at me will you? You'll soon see things in a different spot-light!" It was too much and the people laughed even harder. Several of them fell to their knees, they were laughing so hard.

"Gotta hand it to you Spotty," said a voice from above, "I've never seen a crook bring a city to it's knees so quickly." The Spot looked up at it's source.

"Spider-Man!" It was that accursed do-gooder! He was perched on a flagpole. The Spot clenched his fist and shook it spitefully. "You'll never defeat me!"

"You don't really believe that, do you?" The teen hero asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, I've fought the Hulk. What makes you think YOU can win?"

The Spot smiled underneath his featureless mask. The spider-oaf was in for a surprise. He raised his hand before him and focused all his energies.

Spider-Man webbed that hand and pulled, jerking the Spot off the ground. He then hopped off of the flagpole and and dangled across from the would-be villain.

Spider-Man smirked underneath his mask. This Spot guy was a total tool!

"Is this you're first time out as a super villain?" He asked, amused. "Because I gotta say, not exactly a "Spot-tacular" start." Spider-Man webbed his "foe", preventing him from moving too much.

The Spot opened his mouth to speak. "I..."

Spider-Man interrupted him. "Sorry. That 'Spot-tacular' joke was pretty lame, I admit it. But seriously: The Spot?! What in God's name were you thinking?" This was too funny for words. He gave the Spot a little push, making him twirl.

The Spot opened his mouth to speak. "I..."

"Were all the other cool names taken? Because 'The Spot' sounds like either a collie or an accident in your underoos."

The Spot opened his mouth to speak. "I..."

Having had enough of amateur night in super-villian land, Spidey webbed the Spot's mouth shut.

"Whatever, I don't care." He glanced around to see what kind of damage was done. Actually, everything looked pretty okay. Spider-Man let go of the webbing and landed in front of one of the gathered onlookers.

"Hey, did this yahoo actually commit a crime?" He asked.

The onlooker shrugged. "Eh. He calls himself 'The Spot.' He deserves to be hung from a flagpole."

Spider-Man nodded. Made sense to him. He said his goodbyes to the crowd, and with one last salute to the Spot, he swung home.

-

'Crap, crap, crap, crap. I'm gonna be late!' Peter Parker thought to himself as he changed out of his super-hero duds. 'Aunt May's gonna kill me!' His aunt and Mary-Jane's mother had planned a little get together. They said it was to show their support in Peter and MJ's burgeoning relationship, but the young couple had a sneaking suspicion that the old people just wanted to give them the sex talk.

A horrible thought occurred to Peter while packed his costume and web-shooters into his backpack. If they were indeed going to give them "The Talk", and he left Mary alone with them for too long, she may very well be the one delivering death instead of Aunt May. Or worse. She might cut him off!

'Crap!'

Peter hightailed it to his house as fast as superhumanly possible (Which is pretty darn fast.) in an effort to prevent such a terrible outcome.

He sighed in annoyance. The two of them have been dating for a few months now, and their folks were only just now getting to the "The Talk"? To be fair, Aunt May had tried before. Just after he told Mary about his being Spider-Man. That was embarrassing enough, did they really need to be coming at them from two sides?

"Ugh! I just hope they don't bring out a banana and a condom." The visual on that alone was worth six months in therapy.

All thoughts were driven forcibly from his mind when he arrived home, only to see the front door hanging on its hinges.

"Aunt May!" Peter yelled as he ran inside. "Aunt May!" He called out again. Peter went into the living room and saw them. His aunt was dead. She was on the floor by the dining room table, bleeding out from a chest wound. There was a look of fear and pain on her face that will haunt him until the day he dies. Mary's mother was laying by the the couch with an arrow through her neck.

Tears streamed from Peter's eyes and his legs would no longer support him. He fell to his knees in despair, dropping his backpack beside him.

'This is all my fault!' He realized.

From above him, came a loud crash, followed by a terrified scream. It was Mary-Jane! Peter called out to his girlfriend and she responded in kind.

"Peter! Help me!" Mary-Jane begged desperately as he leapt up the stairs. "No! Don't touch me!" She screamed to her unknown assailant.

Peter slammed into them with full force. There were six men in total. All of them dressed in robes and all of them armed with axes and bows. One of them was holding Mary-Jane down with a dagger poised above her heart.

"Get away from her!" Peter snarled, pulling the robed man off of the terrified girl.

These bastards killed Aunt May! She was the only mother he could remember, and they killed her! Peter Parker didn't pull his punches. He didn't see the sickening way a skull dented on impact, or hear the agonized screams of his foes as he broke them. All he could see was the look on his aunt's face as she lay dead. All he could hear was the pounding of his blood as he vented his grief and rage on their dying bodies. He didn't stop when the last one fell. He continued to hit the increasingly bloody man until he heard Mary-Jane's choking sob from behind him.

"Peter, please..." She was in the linen closet. Blood had splattered on her face.

When he heard her voice, he seemed to come back to himself. Peter turned away from the wet pulp that was once a face.

"Mary-Jane?" He asked, confused. There was something wet on his hands. He held them up to inspect them, then saw the brutalized bodies around him. "Oh no." The horrified young man shook his head in denial. "No. I didn't do this. This isn't blood on my hands." Mary-Jane crawled out of her hiding spot.

"Peter..." she reached out to him, but he grabbed her shoulders before she could say anything more.

"Mary please tell me I didn't just kill these people!" He fell to his knees as if begging forgiveness. "Please," he whispered,"tell me it wasn't me."

Mary-Jane put her arms around him and held him tight. "You saved me." She said softly. "They were going to kill me, and you stopped them."

Peter Parker, aged 15, sobbed into her shoulder. Lamenting the loss of an innocence he didn't even realize he had.

-

It wasn't long before more of the robed men showed up, taking the heartsick couple by surprise. They stormed the house in numbers too great for even someone as powerful as Peter to fend off. The teens retreated into Peter's room.

"Why?!" Peter demanded as he fought them. "Why did you do this to my life?!"

He received no answer. The robed men just continued their silent assult. It was time to go. Peter grabbed Mary and jumped out his window. They made their way to the warehouse. It was the place they went to when they want to be alone. Now, it's the only place they have. Peter set MJ down and did a perimeter sweep. By the time he was finished, the shock of the nights events had taken their tole on the girl. He found her curled in a fetal position, crying her heart out.

Peter wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't find the words. All he could do was apologize for bringing this down on them.

"I'm so sorry." He told her. "It's all my fault. They must have found out I'm Spider-Man somehow. Oh God, I'm sorry."

Mary-Jane wiped her eyes and looked at her boyfriend.

"What are we going to do?" She asked brokenly.

Peter considered their options. "We have to call Nick Fury. He'll help us."

Mary-Jane nodded. She shuddered as she remembered the robed men.

"Their faces. Peter, how can they see? Their eyes were stitched shut! Oh God. They're monsters!" Peter pulled held her close and she sobbed quietly into his chest. "Peter?" She asked after a few moments.

"Yeah?"

"Before, when they attacked the second time. Why didn't your spider-sense go off?"

Peter blinked. "I... I don't know. I didn't even think about it." His eyes widened in sudden realization. "I've been counting on my spider-sense to warn us if more of those guys attack!"

As if on cue, it happened. The robed men came in through the doors, the sky light, everywhere. Peter picked up a very, very, large iron beam.

"If you don't leave, I'll kill you!" He threatened. The men didn't seem to care. Peter swung the beam as hard as he could, knocking many of them away. The young man tried not to let the sound of the bodies hitting the walls and the floor affect him. They were warned. The beam left an avenue of escape and Peter took advantage of it. He grabbed hold of Mary and ran as fast as he could. Once they were outside, he ascended an office building and headed toward the Baxter Building. Home of the fabled Fantastic Four.

-

Peter leapt from building to building. They were almost there. All of a sudden, Peter some kind of pull. A summon, if you will, to head another direction. He thought about resisting, but it wasn't all that strong. In fact, It was more of a suggestion than a command. He took a gamble and followed it.

"What are you doing?" Mary-Jane yelled over the wind.

"I'm not sure." He yelled back. " But I think some-one's trying to contact us."

"What? How?"

"Some kind of message in my head telling me to go in this direction."

"What if it's those guys?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

Peter suddenly knew where they were headed. It was as if he possessed the knowledge all along.

"Because this is the way to Doctor Strange's house."

-

They landed on the roof. The trip took longer than usual. Peter left his web-shooters in his backpack back at the house. He left everything back there and he knew what that meant. The police will find them and his costume. They'll find his equipment, his journal, and they'll know who he was. It didn't matter. He was never going back to that house, and he was never going to put that damn costume on again. Spider-Man was as dead as the family he killed.

Shaking his morose thoughts away for the moment, Peter looked around to make sure they were safe. Seeing nothing strange, he grabbed Mary by the waist and hopped down the open skylight into the room below.

The place was dark. It looked like no-one was home, but Peter's superior vision was able to make out some shapes.

"I don't suppose you brought a flashlight." MJ asked after a couple of minutes went by. "I can't see anything. Are you sure this place is safe?"

He wasn't, but it's not like he's about to tell her that.

"Yeah. I can see a little. This must be Doctor Strange's library or Inner Sanctum, or something."

The lights turned on and Peter winced at the sudden brightness.

"This was actually his father's study." The speaker, a bald asian man in his late thirties, stood at the doorway. "The books contained in here are much too powerful for a relative novice such as Stephen." He bowed deeply. "I am Wong. Advisor and servant to the Sorcerer Supreme. Forgive the rude greeting. It was not my intention to keep you waiting, but the summoning spell required more concentration than anticipated."

Peter looked at the man. "I remember you. You took off my mask." He said in a tone that clearly stated he was still sore about it.

Wong chuckled a bit, then inclined his head respectfully.

"Only to save your life." He looked Peter in the eye. "Just as I have done tonight."

"What do you mean?" Mary-Jane asked, half-hidden behind her super powered boyfriend. If there was one thing she learned from Jet Li movies, it's that you shouldn't trust bald asian men who seem perfectly harmless. It was silly of course. She knew who Wong was from the Dr. Strange A&E special. But her whole life was ruined a little while ago, so she wasn't exactly running on all cylinders.

"Noble as they are, the Fantastic Four would not be able to protect you. The wards on this place will. For a time. Long enough for me to tell you why this is happening."

Wong brought them into a dinning room of some kind and asked them to sit. Once they were seated, he served a very soothing herbal tea. And after that, he began to talk.

"There is a legend that tells of the Slayer. Into every generation she is born. One girl, in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will have the strength and skills to hunt the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer."

Peter asked what that had to do with anything.

"What the legend doesn't tell you is that she is chosen from a vast number of girls who have the potential to be the Slayer." He looked directly at Mary-Jane. "You Ms. Watson, are one of these girls."

She spilt her tea, stunned. "What? No, I don't have any strength or skills or anything! I had nightmares for a week when Peter first told me about vampires."

Her boyfriend gave her a stricken look.

"I didn't know that."

She shrugged. "It wasn't important."

Wong stroked his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Forgive me for asking, but in these dreams, were you fighting them? The vampires?" The stunned expression on the scared girl's face gave Wong all the answer he needed and he continued his narrative. "It is part of the Slayer's heritage, these dreams. They show her the way a Slayer lives..." He paused, looking for the right words.

Mary-Jane found them."...and how she dies. Right? That's what you didn't want to say. That I'm going to die." She glared at him from across the table.

Wong nodded. "If you are chosen, then yes."

Nobody spoke, filling the room with an oppressive silence as Mary-Jane absorbed this terrifying new information.

That silence was broken when Peter slammed his knuckles into the table, breaking that also.

"NO! That's not going to happen!" He turned a furious gaze on Wong. "You're going to fix it! Change her back! Make her like she was!"

The manservant shook his head sadly. "I cannot change the way a person is born."

Peter's fist shook. This wasn't happening! First his parents, then Uncle Ben, Gwen, Aunt May, and now Mary-Jane?! Before he realized it, Peter was yelling at the top of his lungs and holding Wong by the throat against the wall.

"PETER! STOP IT!" Mary-Jane grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to pull him off their benefactor. "You're going to kill him!"

He shoved her away unthinkingly, causing her to hit her head against the broken table. She cried out in pain. When the angry teen realized what happened, Wong took advantage of the distraction to break free of Peter's powerful grip. He muttered an incantation, turning the world dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Mary-Jane watched the sleeping face of her boyfriend as he tossed and turned.

-

Peter had to run. The thing was chasing him. His glasses fogged as he panted for breath. In the distance he could hear the thing calling to him, taunting him. Great shadows were before him, blocking his escape. They herded him, made him go one way when he wanted to go another. The thing kept coming ever closer, soon it would have him. Peter had to run.

"Why!? Why are you doing this to me!?" he shouted, "I don't understand!" The thing was near, very near, and Peter had to run. The landscape was different. Before, where there were shadows, open fields could be seen. They were not bright and cheerful, but instead, gloomy and exposed. Peter knew if he crossed, the thing would have him. He heard it coming, breaking through the woods behind him, laughing and making jokes at Peter's fear.

Peter had to run, but there was no-place to go. In front of him was an expanse so great, it would take wings to cross it. The thing was closer now. He could feel it's hunger and lust. He ran. The shadows came at him from all sides and he ducked and weaved to avoid them.

Just ahead, at the other side, he could see them. His family. They were sitting down to dinner and Uncle Ben was telling Aunt May a joke. She rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. Gwen smiled a happy smile. There were four plates. They were waiting for him. He ran harder. Peter could feel the thing coming now, and realized it wasn't after him, but his family! Peter had to run faster than he has ever run before.

The thing passed him, a blue and red blur. It's long and terrible fingers reached out. Peter ran. Uncle Ben was first. A gunshot pierced the air and the teasing light in his kind eyes faded. Peter ran. Gwen withered, and fell. The accusing stare from her skeletal face penetrating his heart. Peter ran. He was getting closer, he could still save Aunt May! She knelt by her husbands body and cradled his head to her chest. She looked at her nephew. Sadness and hate, where there once was love and joy. The boy froze. He looked down at his bloody, gloved hands and saw that the thing was him.

"I wish we never took you in Peter." She told him as a robed man with sewn-shut eyes raised his ax behind her. "Look what you've done to us."

"NOOOOO!!!!" Peter shot up in a panic.

Mary-Jane let out a surprised yelp. He turned to her, gasping for breath and trembling. Her heart poured out to him and she wrapped her arms around his shaking body.

"Shh." She soothed, rubbing his back softly. "I've got you."

He sobbed into her shoulder. "It's all my fault!"

"No it isn't." Mary-Jane pulled back and looked into his eyes. "It's mine."

-

Once Peter calmed down, they gathered again in the dining room. Before them was a beautiful new table, and a fresh pot of tea.

"Please, forgive the sleeping spell." Wong requested as he poured them new cups, "Your distress, though understandable, was also dangerous. In your rage, you injured Ms. Watson." He gestured to the already fading black eye on her face. "I have placed a healing balm on it, and no permanent damage was done."

Peter looked deeply ashamed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wong." I didn't mean to..."

Wong smiled. "As I said, I understand. No apology is needed. Now," he turned to Mary-Jane, "we have more pressing matters to discuss."

MJ nodded, and went first. "Wong explained the situation to me while you were sleeping." She placed her hand over Peter's, and squeezed. "I said before that this wasn't your fault, remember?"

The young man nodded, squeezing back. "You said it was yours."

"Those guys were after me. They didn't know you're Spider-Man." She chuckled darkly. "It's probably the only reason why I'm still alive."

"Yes. It is." Wong said. He stood up, walked to a bookcase, selected an old looking tome, and placed it on the table. "The creatures that attacked you were not human." He glanced at Peter. "They forfeited their humanity in order to serve."

Mary-Jane frowned. "Serve what?"

Wong opened to a bookmarked page. It depicted the robed men chanting around a circle of runes. The same runes that stitched shut their eyes.

"Evil." He said simply. The two teens processed that startling information.

"You said they forfeited their humanity?" Peter asked after a moment. Wong nodded. "What does that mean?"

"That means, my young friend, they are no longer human. When they entered into the service of Evil, they became it's harbingers." Wong turned to the next page. It showed a scene of terrible violence. "The Bringers of death."

Mary-Jane shuddered. "I think we got that part."

Peter's heart thudded in his chest. If what Wong was saying was true...!

"So they aren't human?" The manservant shook his head. "Are they alive? I mean mutants aren't exactly human either. Or they're, at least, a different kind of human."

"The Bringers are demons. They are no more alive than a vampire."

"So I didn't kill anyone?" There was a hope in his question that Wong understood all to well.

"No Peter. You did not." The young man went limp with relief. It looked as if a great weight had been lifted of his shoulders. Wong smiled.

Mary-Jane gave Peter a great big hug. One he gladly returned. When they broke apart, Peter turned back to the older man.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you." Wong inclined his head, indicating for Peter to continue. "Where's Doctor Strange?"

"I already asked." Mary-Jane told him. "He said the Doctor was on a house call."

Wong chuckled. "That's not exactly how I put it, but essentially correct. Stephen is in another dimension. The dread Dormammu is looking to take advantage of the coming darkness."

Peter looked alarmed. "Uh... Can I help?"

Wong raised an eyebrow. "Are you versed in the mystical books of the Vishanti?" Peter shook his head. "Then I'm afraid not." The mystic pulled another book and placed it before him. It read: Vampyrs. "Besides, I think you have other concerns."

Mary-Jane and Peter exchanged a nervous glance.

-

In another part of the world, a man hid deep in the woods. Angry and alone. The townsfolk drove him out. Made him run! How dare they! Didn't they realize what she was becoming? A woman, and as such, flawed. Unworthy of compassion. Didn't Eve tempt Adam from Eden? Didn't she call on him to eat the Apple and drive them from paradise, simply because she couldn't leave well enough alone?

Women dress in such a pretty manner to hide the truth from a man. They are dirty and unclean. The worst part is, man don't care. They see what a woman is, and they like it. Giving themselves to her. Taking pleasure in what she offers, only to be betrayed as a woman whores around his back. Well not him! No sir! But those fools back in town can't see what he sees. They don't understand the depth of depravity that a female could go. But they will. He'll show them.

"He's over here! I see that murdering son of a bitch!" Of course, he would have to live first. The man ran for it, towns people right behind him. He dodged and pivoted, but to no avail. There were just to many of them, and all to soon, he was cornered.

"Don't you see!" He yelled. "The way she paraded around, showing her filth to any boy what looks at her! She needed to die!"

One in the crowd came forth and hit him, knocking him to the ground.

"You monster! Becky was only thirteen! You killed my daughter you bastard!"

He spat blood and looked up at his attacker. "Wrong. I saved her. That pretty child's soul of hers, that innocence? Would of been lost forever in her womanly ways if I didn't set it free."

But they didn't care. They only saw her sweet smile and shiny eyes. They had no understanding what that hid. The man tried to fight back, but a fierce blow to the back of the head made the world swim. By the time he cleared his senses, the noose was around his neck, and the folks were calling for his death. His eyes saw no pity in the faces of the crowd. The man prayed for his God to save him.

And He did.

Agents of the Lord, dressed in His robes converged on the townsfolk, killing the nonbelievers and unfaithful. When they were finished, they bowed before him, and he heard God's great and mighty voice.

**"YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN!"**

Caleb closed his eyes reverently, and smiled. "Thank you."

-

A thousand miles away, Buffy Summers felt a chill run down her spine.


	3. Chapter 3

"Stupid dead guy." Buffy grumbled as she left Xander's apartment and headed back home. She kicked a rock huffily. "Who does he think he is anyway, ruining my perfectly good delusions that a crazy Spike isn't deadly then telling me I have an inferiority complex over my superiority complex?" She sneered in disgust. "Whatever that means."

While the Slayer pondered the intricacies of the diagnoses of a vampiric head-shrinker, clear across the country a young couple held the world's fate in their possession.

-

Mary-Jane let out a big honking yawn. "Sleepy." She muttered, snuggling up to he boyfriend while they sat on Doctor Strange's couch. Peter lovingly brushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

"Uh, honey? Shouldn't we head out and save the world or something? Sacred dookie and all that jazz?"

MJ snorted in amusement. "It's duty not dookie. And in case you missed it? Sleepy." Peter stood up regretfully, and she let out a moan of frustration.

"Wong said he didn't know how much longer the protection against the Bringers will hold up." Peter said seriously. "It's better to leave now, when we can get a head start."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Peter? Sweetie? You do realize the second I step foot out of this house I'm a target, right? They'll know exactly where I am at all times."

The young man let out a moan of his own.

"I forgot." His face became worried. "So how do we get out?"

Mary-Jane yawned again, sprawling out over the couch.

"Wong said he'd teleport us. Don't worry about it."

Peter's worry quickly turned into confusion.

"Um. MJ?"

"Mmm-hmm?" She answered sleepily.

"How come you're so..." he paused, trying to find the right word for her behavior, "... stoned over all this?" Her only reply was a loud and nasally snore. Peter smiled fondly. "This is what I've got to look forward to? Being ignored and nasal congestion?"

Wong breezed into the study. "Only if you're lucky."

Peter jumped eight feet high at the sudden voice, and he glared at Wong from the ceiling.

The mystic gave an uncharacteristic smirk at Peter's expression.

"To answer you're question, I've given Ms. Watson a restorative sedative, and a mild hypnotic suggestion."

"What? Sedative? Why?" The boy asked as he hopped down. "Did you say hypnotize?"

"Yes."

"What kind." He demanded. "And why would you."

"Ms. Watson has had a very trying night. The sedative has a restorative property that will leave her feeling fully rested after only an hour." Wong gazed at her sleeping form sadly. "As for the hypnosis, it was a suggestion that she not dwell too long or too hard on the ramifications of being of being a potential slayer."

Peter caught on quick. "Such as the Bringers coming and killing everyone she loves?"

"Almost everyone." Wong corrected, looking directly at the boy. "It won't last very long, the suggestion. Perhaps a day, maybe more. By then you'll have arrived at your destination, and you will be surrounded by people who can help her deal with her pain."

Peter shrugged. He was too tired to deal with any of this right now.

"I don't suppose you got any of that restoration stuff for me, do you?" The young hero asked hopefully.

Wong shook his head. "It would be unwise to administer the sedative in case the Bringers are able to work their way past my wards. If that should happen while Ms. Watson is sleeping..."

"...I can get her out. Right." He sighed, sitting down next to his girlfriend. "Ah well. Got any Red Bull?"

-

Fortunately, the wards held, though Wong could feel them begin to wear down. The way he explained it was, the Bringers could still find MJ, they just couldn't get to her. And so, the manservant lead them to Dr. Strange's teleportation matrix.

"Now it is time for you to depart." He bowed his head. "I wish that I could do more, but I am needed here."

Mary-Jane gave him a hug. "Thank you so much." She said sincerely, kissing his cheek and causing Wong to blush.

"Yes well," he cleared his throat, "we'd better get a move on. This way please." He gestured to the door.

Peter made like he was going to hug him too.

"I'll turn you into a girl." Wong told him seriously. Smirking, Peter settled for a handshake and followed a giggling MJ into the matrix.

"How does this work exactly?" Peter asked, but his only response was the locking of the door behind them. "Wong? Buddy?" A few seconds later, the lights went out. "Um... okay." Then the floor began to glow blue.

"Wow!" MJ breathed. The glow came from a magnificent pattern, obviously etched with precision. She looked over to her boyfriend with delight. "Your feet are missing."

Peter looked down. She was right!

He shrieked in an embarrassingly high pitched manner, causing MJ to laugh out loud.

Then they were gone.

'I hope you enjoyed that bit of amusement Ms. Watson.' Wong thought. 'I fear there will be little cause for it later.' The man walked away from the room, concern written all over his face as he felt the Bringers move away from his home in search of other potentials.

"May the Vishanti watch over you. All of you."

-

The thing about teleporting, Peter decided, was that it sucked! You couldn't feel your left leg from your right ear! It was total chaos of the body. The only time he's ever wanted to puke as badly as he does right now, was when he got stuck in the astral plane. Which, coincidentally, also involved magic. Peter might have said all this to his girlfriend, but he didn't seem have a mouth at the moment. Which was good, because otherwise he'd be screaming like a a five year old with pigtails running from Godzilla. Never mind trying to form complete sentences.

Suddenly, Peter was staring up at the evening stars. He rolled over, took one look at the ground he lay on, then started kissing it like it was his mother.

MJ, to her credit, seemed unfazed. She just watched her boyfriend's display as though she couldn't quite understand what she sees in him.

"If you ever want to make out with me again, you're going to need to see a dentist to get an industrial strength cleaning first." She told him seriously.

He didn't care. Who needed girls, when you've got solid ground?

Finally, Peter stood up and took in their surroundings. They were in the woods.

"Did Wong actually say where he was sending us?" He asked.

MJ nodded. "He told me while you were sleeping. He sent us to a place called Sunnydale."

Peter spat out some dirt. "Is that far from Queens?"

She smirked. "It's in California."

"Oh." Peter then took this opportunity to throw up.

-

"I can't believe you puked!" She gloated. "You! Mr. Big Time Super-hero himself!" They'd left the woods behind and were heading towards the nighttime glow of the city. The unbelievably evil feeling city, Peter noticed once they reached it. He was glad his spider-sense didn't seem to work with magic. it'd probably be going off just thinking about this place.

'Jeeze," He thought to himself as they walked down a suburban street. 'How can people live here?'

"Are you okay?" Mary asked him worriedly. He wasn't making any of his cute little comebacks. Maybe he was embarrassed about throwing up. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

"Huh?" Peter was deep in thought and what MJ was talking about entirely. "What's up?"

"What's bothering you?" She asked again, taking his hands.

"What's bothering me?" Peter repeated incredulously. "Our parents are dead, evil demons want to kill you, and we're in California!"

"But at least it's not Jersey." MJ said, looking to the bright side of things.

He blinked, then smiled, then giggled. Soon he was on his knees clutching his sides in an effort to contain his laughter. MJ was right there with him. Tears were running down her face, she was laughing so hard.

Peter's spider-sense flared, and all traces of amusement vanished. He stood up warily.

"What's is it?" Mary-Jane asked.

"We have to go. Now!" He took her hand, but before they could go even five feet, their way was blocked by some thugs.

"Well all right." The first one said. "It looks like some tasty fun's arrived." He grinned lecherously at MJ. "And a show too?" He turned to look back at his buddies. "I can't believe our good luck."

Peter wasted no time in taking advantage of the leader's mistake by punching him in the stomach as hard as he could without killing the man. It would've worked too, except the thugs were vampires. Regardless, the leader sure as hell wasn't expecting resistance of that magnitude from some punk kid and a chick that wasn't a slayer. He flew back about four feet, knocking over his three minions behind him. The demon got up and swore loudly when he saw his evening plans running faster than humanly possible. He started to give chase, but when Peter, while carrying MJ, took a flying leap over a house, he thought better of it.

"Screw it!" The vampire said sourly, "They were probably wouldn't have tasted good anyway."

-

"Holy crap!" Peter exclaimed after they'd stopped. "Did you see that guy get up? I mean, I hit him hard enough to knock out Captain America!" MJ gave him a look. "Well maybe not, but still!"

"I think they were vampires." She admitted softly.

"Seriously? Are you sure?" Peter asked in alarm. "Because I thought he was just a mutant or something."

MJ shook her head. "I don't really know how to describe it. I just knew what they were."

"Huh. Weird. Maybe it's some kind of slayer thing." He was silent for a second. "Except you aren't a slayer yet." Peter picked up a small rock and threw it at her.

"OW!!!" She cried when it bounced off her forehead. "What the hell?"

Peter looked abashed. "Sorry. I thought that if you were a slayer, you'd block it or something." Mary-Jane gave him a dangerous glare. "Uh...Wong!" Peter spat out suddenly. "Wong told me to do it."

"He did." She asked flatly.

"Yes? I mean: Yes! He said if you displayed any signs of being a slayer, I should throw something at you and see if you caught it. If you did, that would mean you were, y'know, a slayer." Peter scratched the back of his head while he went over what Wong told him. "Come to think of it, he was smirking when he said that, so he might've just been setting me up."

Mary-Jane got right in his face. "Now you listen to me Peter Parker." She poked him in the chest. "You start throwing things at me every time you think I MIGHT be a slayer, and you can forget about ever having sex with me!"

"When did we start having sex?!" Peter demanded. He probably would've remembered that!

"I meant in the future!" She clarified.

Peter grinned goofily. "Were you planning on seducing me? Because if you were, I'd definitely not throw stuff at you."

MJ cried out in frustration, then kicked him in the shin.

"OW!"

"Oh suck it up, you have super powers." She fumed for a few minutes, mulling over something. "How come your spider-sense went off for those vampires, but not for Wong or the Bringers?"

Peter rubbed his shin sourly.

"I've been thinking about that actually. Wong's an easy one. He doesn't mean any harm. He just likes scaring me. The Bringers took more thought." Peter admitted. "It seems like my spider-sense won't go off unless I'm being directly threatened, and because they're after you..." he trailed off, letting her put it together.

She did. "Well that sucks! You do realize that they'll kill anyone in their way, right?"

"So that means they're a threat to me too. I know." He looked annoyed. "Don't blame me, I didn't design the stupid thing." He sulked for a second. "I think, maybe, they have some kind of cloaking thing on them too." He looked at Mary-Jane. "While you were sleeping, Wong tried to show me where they were and what their most likely areas of attack would be. But when he tried, he couldn't make out their exact locations." Peter sighed. "I asked him what that meant, but he just smiled and told me to relax."

Mary looked confused. "If Wong knew what was up, why didn't he say anything?"

Peter shrugged in response. "I dunno, maybe he didn't want to worry me. Or he didn't know why that happened either." Peter looked at his watch. "It's getting really late. Do we know were we have to go?"

MJ shuffled through her pockets, looking for something.

"Wong gave me an address, I have it somewhere... Ahah!" She read it aloud. "We need to go to... 1630 Revello Drive."

-

Buffy walked in the front door of her house. And straight into a disaster area.

The living room devastated. There was shattered glass was everywhere! There were red stains on the wall and the wallpaper was ripped as if by claws.

"What happened?" She demanded, running up to her sister.

Dawn just sat there on the couch as Willow bandaged her bloody feet. She kept staring at a roughly made circle in the middle of the room.

"It was Mom." She said.

"What?" Buffy was not expecting to hear that.

Neither was Willow. "Dawnie?"

Tears were falling from her eyes as she remembered the night's events.

"Something was hurting her. She was trying to get to me and she couldn't. She said she was in pain." Dawn told them in a small voice. Willow was horrified, but Buffy's face betrayed no emotion. The young girl went on. "There was something... some evil entity... Mom was trying to get to me but she couldn't." She said fiercely. "So I had to help her." Dawn pointed to the circle. "I fought it, but it still wouldn't leave her alone. It made the TV explode." She looked at her sister. "Sorry."

Buffy gave a choking laugh. "I don't care about the TV, you bonehead. I just want to know if you're okay."

Dawn smiled. "I'm fine. I did it Buffy. I saved Mom."

Buffy pulled her sister into a hug. "I'm so proud of you." She told her even as she shared a worried look with Willow. "Can you tell me what Mom said?" Dawn sat back on the couch, a troubled expression on her tired and bleeding face.

"She said she was proud of me, and she loves us."

The situation was jarring, yes, but if their mom really said that and only that, then why did Dawn look so scared.

"Dawn. What else did she say?"

She lifted her head, and stared directly into Buffy's eyes.

"She said you would leave me alone again."

-

The hour was late for Xander Harris. He was used to all-nighters, but this one was different. This night, he had a vampire living in his apartment. A vampire that should be harmless, but is in fact, allegedly killing again. Why was it that he always got the fun jobs? Fetch the donuts, deliver the old books, babysit homicidal evil vampires with souls...

Xander sighed as he prepared another pot of coffee. At least it wasn't Angel. If it were, he'd just have to go ahead and ram his face into an oncoming truck. Since it's only Spike, however, he could make due with using the wall instead. He'll just have to do it a few dozen more times. At least until the pain goes away.

"Y'know, you could always have a drink. It'll be easier on the drywall." A voice said from behind him.

Xander whirled around and stared at the intruder in shock. It was the old fake him from the future.

"How did you get in my apartment?" He asked, astonished.

"The door." Old-Not-Xander said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Xander looked at him blankly. "It was unlocked?" Not-him offered, but only got more blank staring. The thing sighed. "Go see for yourself sonny-boy." Xander didn't move and the older not-him smiled. "Smart."

"Get out." Xander ordered.

The smile became a smirk. "No."

Xander walked up to him. "Then I'll make you get out."

The faker laughed. "Why don't you try?" So Xander did. He fell right through the apparition and landed on the floor. The faker laughed harder. "Oh, you should see your face now boy. It's a riot."

"What are you?" Xander demanded when he got up.

The fake looked surprised. "What? You don't believe I'm an older you from the future? And I have a shiny glowing ball to prove it too." He said sadly.

Seething, Xander got right up in the other's face. "What do you want."

The other smiled. "I want you, son." Then he sang a little song.

"_Early one morning,_

_Just as the sun was rising,_

_I heard a maid sing,_

_In the valley below._

_Oh, don't deceive me,_

_Oh, never leave me,_

_How could you use_

_A poor maiden so?_"

Xander was confused. "What? You ephemeralize your way into my apartment just to serenade me?"

"Oh that wasn't for you lad, no that was for him." He pointed to Spike's room.

Realization dawned on Xander as Spike came barreling out, fangs first. The last thought he had before Spike sank his teeth into his neck was:

'I hope they don't give me a soul.'


	4. Chapter 4

Willow woke up with a stiff neck. She'd fallen asleep on the couch while taking a break from cleaning the living room. The room did look better however, so we can assume the rest was well deserved. She wandered into the kitchen to get some breakfast and saw that Buffy had decided the counter was a perfect place to take a nap.

Smirking, Willow walked up to her sleeping friend and cleared her throat. Buffy shot up as if the kitchen were on fire.

"What? Who?" The groggy slayer looked around confusedly. "Huh?"

"You fell asleep in the kitchen." Willow told her.

"Oh." Understanding dawned in Buffy's eyes as she remembered last night. "Right. Dawn get to sleep okay?" Willow nodded. "Good. Then as long as I'm down here," She lay her head back on the counter, "five more minutes won't hurt."

Willow glanced at the clock. It was 7:45. "Don't you have a school counseling job you need to go to?" She picked up a note that was left next to Buffy. "According to this, the aforementioned Dawnie is already on her way." Willow tut-tutted at her friend. "And she had, like, a way harder night than you."

The Slayer gazed blearily at the time.

"OH MY GOD!" Screw the kitchen, Buffy shot up as if her ass were on fire. She ran out the door almost faster than Willow could track.

The young wicca let out a self satisfied smile. "I don't get to do that nearly enough."

-

"OW! Stupid feet." Dawn leaned on the side of a parked car and glared at her offending appendages. What was she thinking, walking to school? Oh right. She was thinking she didn't want to fail the tenth grade on account of too many absences. Well this sucked! She had spent the night fighting the forces of evil to rescue the suffering spirit of her mother! Her feet hurt because the glass cuts she earned in the process hadn't healed yet. Not to mention the fact she didn't get enough sleep last night. She shouldn't have to go to school if she didn't want to. Traitorously, her eyes began to water.

"Oh great. Now I'm crying like a five-year old girl." Dawn muttered in self-disgust. She wiped her tears in a vain effort to control her emotions. It wasn't fair! Of all the things she should cry about, the thing to get her was going was school? How lame was that?

She paused her in self-recrimination for a moment while a car drove by. It was full of kids just heading to class, laughing with their buddies, generally having a normal life. More tears fell as she watched, enviously, how relatively care-free they were. It was safe to assume none of those kids had any real understanding of what went on after-dark in their town. Dawn slid down the front passenger side door and sat on the pavement. It was all she needed for her classmates to see her bawling her stupid eyes out on the side of the road.

Dawn loves her sister, truly, but she wishes she wasn't the Slayer. It was cool at first, seeing Buffy take down a demon, like, a bijillion times bigger than her. But when she started coming home bleeding and battered, it stopped being a game. It stopped being something to tease her about, yet secretly want to be.

At the tender age of ten, Dawn came to the understanding that her heroic older sister will eventually die, and it would be sooner not later. Nor would it be pretty. Buffy and her friends often wondered why Dawn always wanted to help out. Whether it be with the research or, eventually, the actual slaying. It was because she wanted to do everything she could to keep Buffy alive. Even for just one more day.

"I love you, and I love Buffy," their mother's spirit said last night, "but she won't be there for you. When it's bad, Buffy won't choose you. She'll be against you."

Last night, when Buffy asked what their mom told her, she lied. It was easier than telling the truth. Buffy would always be there for her. Dawn knew that. Her sister was the one person on this earth she could believe in. So why did her mother say what she did?

There were two options. One, Buffy would die again, and it will be because she chose death over her. The other, this is the one that hurt the most, was that her mother never came to her last night. The specter that appeared before Dawn was in fact, not Joyce Summers, but an impostor. What a mind job huh? Either she hopes her sister dies, or accept that the events of last night were staged and some creature was using her mother's face.

Dawn sat against the car and just could not stop crying.

-

MJ had gotten the brilliant idea to use the computers at an internet cafe they'd come across in order to find out how to get to 1630 Revello Dr. She found directions using mapquest and Peter looked the address up on google-earth in order to get an idea of what kind of place they were headed to. It was a residential house. In the suburbs. Not exactly the best place to ward off an attack from the original evil. But they'd come all this way, so off they went.

They were almost there when Mary-Jane stopped.

"Peter, look." She said, grabbing his forearm.

"Huh?" He looked around, trying to see if they were in trouble.

MJ tugged on his arm a little. "Over there, that girl's crying." She pointed to the bereft Dawn.

"Okay sad, but what can we do?" Peter had the gall to ask.

She turned a disbelieving eye to her boyfriend. "Duh! We help her."

"Oh. Right. Silly me." Peter muttered as Mary pulled him along.

He decided to let Mary take point on this one. He'd just be in the background. Y'know, keeping an eye out for the bad guys that want to kill them.

"Hey." MJ said gently, when she reached the sad young girl.

Dawn was so distracted by her thoughts, she had no idea anyone was even around. She stood up quickly to see who was talking to her. It was some disheveled looking redhead she didn't know. Dawn wiped her eyes in embarrassment.

"Sorry. Bad night. Can I help you?" She asked awkwardly.

"Uh..." now that she was there, MJ had no idea what to say. "My boyfriend and I," she gestured to a cute but equally disheveled boy behind her. He gave Dawn a distracted wave, then went back to staring everywhere worriedly, "saw you crying and we were wondering if you were okay?"

"Oh! Um..." Dawn was gonna die! Forget the hellmouth, embarrassment would do it just fine. "Yeah. Like I said, rough night."

"Oh. Okay." Well this was in no-way uncomfortable.

Mary-Jane looked to her boyfriend for help, but he was too busy being paranoid (It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you!) to be any help. She elbowed him in the ribs and turned back to Dawn with a big over-enthused grin.

The traumatic events of the past day, coupled with a lack of any restful sleep, was getting to him. Peter made a mistake.

"Jeez that hurts! Are you sure you're not a slayer?" He asked furiously. "Because it certainly feels like you have super-strength! I don't think Doc Ock's hit me that hard!"

"What!" Dawn exclaimed.

Mary-Jane was about to reply with a scathing retort, when they remembered Dawn was standing right next to them. Peter realized what he did and smacked the side of his head, MJ turned back to the other girl.

"Heh. Boys say the craziest things don't they?" She asked with another over-enthused grin.

"Who are you people?" Dawn demanded cooly, crossing her arms. They seemed nice but she's been fooled before.

Mary was surprised at the drastic change in the other girl's posture. Just a second ago she was weepy with a side of embarrassed, now it looked like she would have no problems telling the Green Goblin to screw himself.

"I'm Mary-Jane Watson, and this is Peter Parker." She introduced themselves cautiously.

When Peter saw Dawn's crossed arms, swayed hips, and unflappable expression, he did two things. He came to the conclusion that Dawn knew about slayers, and then he tried super hard to not picture her naked. It was tough though because the girl was really, really, hot.

Dawn nodded. "Now. What do you know about slayers?"

"What do YOU know about them?" Peter countered, equally cool. Who was she to be making demands of them?

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "I asked you first."

"I asked you second." He replied.

"So?"

"So... yeah. That means I win."

"It does not!"

"Does so."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

MJ watched this exchange as if it was a tennis match. Her eyes went back and forth with each verbal volley.

"That's it!" She stepped between their butting heads before she had no choice but to knock the two of them into next Sunday.

She turned to Dawn. "You want answers? Fine. I'm a potential slayer. And yesterday, the Bringers of the First Evil killed our families." Mary-Jane stared determinedly into Dawn's eyes. "Now how about you tell us a little about yourself?"

'My girlfriend is soooo awesome!' Peter thought to himself with a grin as he took in her fierce expression.

-

Buffy was getting pissed. She ran all the way to work (In the clothes she had on yesterday!) but does Principal Wood care? No. All he seems to care about was why Dawn wasn't in class. Which, admittedly, is cause for concern. That other stuff about her running to work was just her being sarcastic. Honest. She pulled out her cellphone and called her sister.

-

Dawn was stunned. This was about the absolute last thing she expected to encounter on her way to school. Her dead mother coming to give her a warning seemed more probable. She just kept staring at Mary-Jane, who in turn, was glaring back at Dawn.

"Well?" the redhead arched an eyebrow. "We showed you ours."

She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the theme song to "Scooby-Doo". Dawn got out her phone and took a look at the caller I.D.

"It's my sister." She told them. MJ and Peter didn't see the relevance. "She's the Slayer."

-

The relief Buffy felt when Dawn picked up the phone was palpable. Her anger too, was clear.

"Where the hell are you?" She practically screamed. She listened for a few minutes. The waves of anger dissipated and were replaced with shock.

"Oh."

-

Dawn hung up her phone. "Buffy wants us to go back to my house. She told the principal that I'm going to be late so I can bring you there."

Mary-Jane nodded her head numbly. Peter still had some doubts.

"How did your sister become the slayer?" He asked.

"When one slayer dies, another is chosen." Dawn quoted. Peter nodded. That was what Wong said.

"How old was she?" Mary asked.

"Buffy was fifteen."

Mary-Jane shook her head. "I meant the slayer who died."

Dawn shrugged. "I don't know. I think I heard Giles say she was around seventeen."

Peter rubbed his hands through his hair as his girlfriend absorbed that bit of info. He watched with fascination as worry, fear, and anger warred for time on her face, then abruptly vanish in the hypnotic suggestion Wong placed on her.

This repression stuff probably wasn't too healthy. He told Peter it would only last a day or so, but if this keeps up, MJ will have a nervous breakdown when it ends from all the emotional buildup. Come to think of it. He noticed he, himself wasn't exactly reacting normally. He wouldn't have put it past Wong to have placed a mental suggestion on him as well. Jerk.

Dawn's cell phone rang again. "Hi Will. Did Buffy tell you what's up? She did? Okay, bye." She hung up and put her phone away. "Willow's expecting us, we should go."


	5. Chapter 5

Colonel Fury looked at the burnt rubble that used to be the Parker residence.

"I want a site rep now!" He demanded.

A young agent carrying a clipboard, Fury's assistant, ran up to him. He looked vaguely disturbed. "The house has been totally destroyed sir."

Fury gave the younger man an 'oh really?' expression. "Well, good work Agent Barnes. I can see you're going to just skyrocket through the ranks."

The younger man blushed. "What I meant, sir, was that because the house was destroyed, progress in determining what's happened has been slow." He looked back at the house. "The fire started in the back of the house. We don't yet know the cause, but it's safe to say it was arson."

That was interesting. "How come?"

"Who ever did this didn't even bother to try and cover it up sir."

Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. If that's true, that also means they don't care who knows it.

"Any fatalities." The colonel asked.

"Yes sir. We've found at least seven bodies. Two in the living room and the rest in the upstairs hallway."

"Any of them belonging to the Parker kid or the Watson girl?"

Barnes shook his head, and Fury gave a little sigh of relief. "No sir. But the cause of death, in each case, was not fire. We believe that was started in order to cover up the events that took place here, to mask any evidence we may find."

"Did it?" The colonel headed toward the ruins, giving commands to various people along the way.

"For the most part sir. However, we were able to learn a great deal from the bodies." The agent scratched his head. "Obviously, they were all badly burned. Uh... Dental records show the two in the living room were May Parker and Helen Watson. Parker was killed by a wound to the chest. Probably caused by one of the axes found on the premises. Watson was killed by an arrow through the neck."

"An arrow?" Fury asked in disbelief. Who killed anybody with an arrow in this day and age? Besides Hawkeye?

"Yes sir." Barnes reaffirmed.

"God damn. What about the bodies upstairs?" He asked as they entered the house.

Barnes hesitated. "We don't have any I.D. on them, but it looks like they were beaten to death."

Fury took that information in silence. Did Peter do that? If the kid did see his aunt murdered, would that have been enough drive him crazy with grief?

'I hope it's out of his system.' Fury thought to himself.

If he wanted to, the kid could ruin half the damn city. The Ultimates not withstanding, there are very few people in the world who could take down a rampaging Spider-Man. Fury noticed a scorched backpack on the ground. He opened it up and pulled out the tattered remains of Peter's costume and a pair of web shooters. He then handed the shooters off to another agent, instructing her to make sure tech gave him a full report. He held onto the mask.

"Why don't you have I.D.s?" Fury asked his assistant.

"Their D.N.A. doesn't match up with anything in our data base sir."

Fury stopped at that. "So we don't know who those dead bodies are?"

Agent Barnes shook his head. "Sir, we don't know WHAT those dead bodies are."

That was bad. There were only two kinds of things not in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database. Neither of which the frustrated colonel wanted to think about.

"What about the psychics?" Fury wanted to know. "What do they have to say?"

Barnes consulted his clipboard. "They mentioned something called 'The Evil,' before passing out. Except for Nicholes... " Barnes hesitated once again, "Nicholes started ranting in a foreign language before biting off his tongue and attempting to stab Agent Parks in the heart. Luckily Parks was able to fend him off long enough for us to sedate him."

"He bit off his tongue?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes sir. We were able to put it on ice, and sent it with the medics back to base."

Colonel Fury looked down to the damaged mask in his hands. "Damn kid. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

-

Awkward silence. Was there anything worse? If there was, Willow Rosenburg didn't want to know about it.

"So. Cookie?" She asked, holding up a plate of deliciousness for her uncomfortable guests.

Dawn had jumped ship for school about two minutes into the aforementioned awkwardness. It's oppressive silence (and that burning desire not to fail the tenth grade) overrode even her sense of curiosity over Mary-Jane and Peter's appearance.

Mary-Jane shook her head and stared moodily at the cookies. How could this chick help them? Did the Bringers enjoy cookies? Was that the secret to beating them? Giving them diabetes?

'Speaking of diabetes...' MJ thought to herself as Peter wolfed down his third cookie.

"These are great!" He exclaimed enthusiastically.

Willow beamed. "Thanks. I made them myself." She had spent all morning baking. It was something she did when she was feeling nervous, or guilty, or out of sorts. Baking, for Willow, was akin to meditation. It helped her regain her focus. And after last night, she certainly could use that. Plus when she was done, she got to eat them. Everybody's a winner.

"So." Willow started.

"Yeah." Peter replied while munching on a fourth cookie.

Willow looked at MJ and smiled sympathetically. "You're a potential slayer?" MJ nodded, but didn't say anything. "How long have you known?" The younger girl raised her head sadly, and began to cry.

All those emotions that had been held in check by Wong's hypnosis came flooding back. She remembered seeing an arrow go through her mothers neck. She remembered hearing Aunt May scream for her to run. She remembered how hard her heart pounded as she hid in the linen closet. And she remembered the terror she felt when the Bringers found her. All of it came rushing back at once.

"Oh God!" Willow exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

'About time.' Peter thought as he hugged Mary and answered the witch's questions. "She's known since yesterday." He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. "As for what's wrong..." Peter told her the tale of how they came to be sitting in her living room. After he was finished, Willow stood up and went to the phone. "What are you doing?" Peter asked.

"Calling a friend. If what you're saying is true, then a lot of innocent girls are in trouble and he's the one who can get them help."

-

All the way in England, Rupert Giles was just sitting down for a nice late-night snack when the phone rang.

"Never fails. As soon as you get comfy, the bastard phone rings." He grumbled. Giles got up and answered the damnable thing. "Hello. Can I help you?" He greeted rather irritably.

"Giles?" Willow asked. He sounded kinda miffed.

His irritation vanished at the sound of his friend's voice. "Willow! Good Lord. How are you?"

"Good. But are you okay?"

Giles blushed at her concern.

"Yes well, I was about to have a snack when you called."

"OH! I'm sorry. Was it scones?" She asked seriously.

"Pop-tarts actually." He admitted. He's always had a secret fondness for those damned things.

Willow brightened. "Ooh! Cherry?"

"S'mores." Giles smiled at Willow's endearing enthusiasm. "Not that this isn't a wonderful conversation, but I don't think you're spending four dollars a minute just to talk about what I'm eating."

Willow shook her head, even though Giles couldn't see it.

"I wish." She brought him up to date on what Peter told her about the First's plans and the threat to the potential slayers.

Giles was stunned. "Are you serious?" Willow said she was. He took off his glasses and sighed. "Very well. I'll get in touch with the Council and see if I can verify the young man's story."

He hung up the phone, grabbed his pop-tart, and bolted out the door.

-

When Willow came back into the living room, Mary-Jane had calmed down some. She was in Sunnydale, she was going to meet the Slayer, and Peter was there with her. These were all things that were good. They were a plus. She held on to them because, if she didn't, she would sink into an ocean of grief and panic.

"What did they say?" She asked in a horse voice.

Willow was surprised that MJ had recovered so quickly. Okay, she was shaking and clinging to Peter like she was drowning, but relatively speaking, she seemed all right. The fact that she could take an active interest in what was going on, was such a display of character. Especially after having been forced to experience a day's worth of badness all at once.

When there was time, Willow promised herself she would have a little talk with Wong about the drawbacks of messing with peoples minds. It never ends well. Even if done with the best of intentions.

Willow answered the traumatized girl's question. "Basically, Giles is going talk to the Watcher's Council to see if they can confirm what you said."

"What?" Peter was shocked. "We come all the way from New York, just so you can talk to somebody we don't know and ask them if we're lying?"

"No. You came all the way from New York for help. That is what we're doing. Helping. Giles is a member of the Watcher's Council. Technically, their job is to back the slayer up. A watcher trains a slayer, makes sure someone's around that knows all the super secret info on the bumpies that bump at night. Or, if desperate times call for it, make with the mojo. If you're a good watcher, like Giles, then you do your damnedest to keep her alive and happy." Willow's face darkened some. "If you're not like Giles, then you use the slayer as tool. And when she dies, you just report it to the Council then move on with your poopie life."

"When one dies, another is called." MJ quoted sadly.

"And these are the people you want to help us?" Peter had left shocked, and moved on to incredulous.

Mary-Jane wanted to know something. "Is Giles Buffy's watcher?" Willow told her yes. "Is he coming here?"

"Uh... No. See, he kinda lives in England and ..."

"ENGLAND?" Peter moved on from incredulous's happy shores and arrived at anger in time for the fireworks. "How the hell is he supposed to do anything from there?!"

Willow winced at the loud. "Well you see, the Council's sorta in England, so it makes sense to ... live ... there?" She trailed off upon seeing Peter's face.

He grabbed MJ's arm. "C'mon. We're leaving. This was a stupid idea." MJ didn't really have a choice as Peter started to drag her towards the door.

"Wait! Don't go!" Willow called after him. Mary-Jane looked back at her.

"Maybe we should stay." the young girl tried saying, but Peter wouldn't hear of it. An anger that she has only seen once, twisted his features. Mary-Jane knew that if they didn't leave, Willow might end up held by her throat against a wall.

"_Stop_."

And they did. Mary-Jane didn't know why. It was like Peter could no longer control his body. She pulled her arm out of his hand, his eyes darting every which way in a panic. She turned to Willow and uttered a gasp. Willow's eyes were pitch black!

"_Turn around_." She commanded. Peter did. "Did you think the slayer was the only one around here with POWER?" Willow asked contemptuously. "That I was weak?" A sneer curled on her lips. "Well, you were wrong weren't you?" Willow made the merest of gestures and Peter flew back, stopping just before hitting the wall. "Kid, I bleed power."

He felt it as said power released him. Landing on his feet, Peter stared straight into Willow's now green eyes. Willow, for her part, was looking very shocked at what she had done.

"Oh God! Oh God! I'm so sorry! I can't control it sometimes." Peter walked up to the panicked witch and grabbed her by the front of her shirt, lifting her from the ground.

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, DOING THAT TO ME?" He raged. "ARE YOU WORKING FOR THEM? ARE YOU? I WON'T LET YOU HURT HER!" Willow said nothing, only staring at him with wide and fearful eyes. "Fine." Peter said after a moment. "You bleed power? Prove it." To Mary-Jane's horror, Peter reared his arm back and punched Willow as hard as he could.

Or he would have, if Buffy didn't stop him.

"I think," she said to the astonished teen, "you should be grateful. If that hit? No force on Earth would protect you from me."

MJ was feeling faint. Buffy literally just showed up out of nowhere. It was like one minute, Peter was about to... she didn't even want to think about it, then there was a bang as the door flew open and there she was, stopping a punch that would have leveled a brick wall.

After Peter let her go, Willow fell back into her chair in shock. Awkward silence? Yeah. Those were good times.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sit. Down." Buffy demanded after letting go of Peter's fist. Peter, in shock over what just happened, obeyed without question. The slayer turned to Willow. "Let's talk in the kitchen." Buffy glanced at Mary-Jane, who also sat, then glared at Peter once more for good measure. "Don't go anywhere." She told them before leaving the living room.

Willow got up and followed her, a miserable expression on her face. When they got into the kitchen, Willow started to apologize.

"Buffy, I'm sorry!! I ... I don't know what happened. Or, I do know what happened, but it shouldn't have happened because I have control now. Well, I thought I had control, but I guess not because my powers just got all angry and why are icing your arm?"

Buffy had opened the freezer and pulled out some ice packs and, not bothering to remove her shirt, placed one on her shoulder, held one to her elbow, and set one on top of her wrist which was resting on the counter. She looked at her right arm then in the direction of the living room.

"Can you make it so they can't hear us?" Buffy asked Willow.

Willow gave her a funny look. "Uh ... no. But we could, y'know, whisper?"

Rolling her eyes, Buffy leaned in close. "I think I broke my hand." She admitted.

"What?" Willow asked in surprise. She must've misheard her. "How?"

Buffy nodded in the direction of the livingroom. "It was that kid, Peter. He's got some major power. I haven't taken a hit that hard in a while. My entire arm hurts. I think the only reason I stopped it at all was because he wasn't exactly in control."

Willow's eyes grew wide. "He was going to hit me." She said quietly. "Oh my God. Did you just save my life in there?"

Buffy nodded seriously. "I think so."

Willow shuddered, and started breathing heavy. "That ... that ... grrr! Here I am, trying to help him, and ... and he ... argh!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well he's not getting any more cookies."

-

Peter sat on the couch and stared. He almost killed her. He almost killed her, and he would have if the Slayer didn't show up and stop him. Tears were forming in his eyes. He got lucky once. He thought he killed the bringers, but they weren't human. So then he has to tempt fate and lose control. He almost killed Willow. God! What if the next time he loses it, he attacks MJ? Or that girl, Dawn? What then? Then he would ... he would ... Aunt May would be so disappointed. Peter couldn't hold it in any longer and the tears that had started to flow, broke into a full blown sob, then another, until he he felt Mary-Jane pull him close.

Peter pulled away from her in a panic. He's in love with her, yet he can't bear for her to touch him. He's scum. A killer just like Norman Osborne and he doesn't deserve to be comforted. He deserves to feel exactly the way he does now! And Mary deserves to be loved by better. He looked at her. She, too, was crying. She was saying something, but he couldn't understand what. All he could do was stare.

-

"Say something." She demanded. Mary-Jane hardily noticed the fact she was crying. What she did notice, was the absolutely disgusted look Peter got on his face after she tried to comfort him. He tried to kill Willow. She did some weird magic thing on him, and then he tried to kill her. She knew, she absolutely knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Peter didn't mean it. He was going through some serious trauma (both of them were really) and the magic thing put him over the edge.

Peter's a good person. One of the best. He's the type of guy that would go jump of a bridge to save a girl. He's always tried to put others ahead of himself. He cares so damn much about everyone and everything, that it eats him up inside. Peter has to be a good person because she was in love with him and she doesn't want to love a person who isn't good. A person who would ... do what he almost did. A person who looks at her like he is now. Like he hates her. Like he can't stand to be touched by her. But Peter loves her, she knows it.

Obviously the reason why Peter has that expression is because he almost killed a person. The key word here being 'almost'. The masochist was probably coming up with all new ways to make himself feel guilty.

"God damn it, say something!" Mary-Jane repeated forcefully. If Peter wanted to stand there like a guilty lump, too bad. She slapped him. He looked at her and rubbed his cheek.

"You slapped me." he said in a rather shocked voice.

"Duh." she put her hands on her hips. "And I'll do it again too." Peter didn't say anything. He just stared the wall behind her glumly. MJ wiped the tears from her face and scowled. She made to slap him again, but he grabbed her wrist.

"Don't. Please?" Peter asked in such a miserable tone that she felt bad for slapping him, but then he went back to the staring. She kicked his shin.

"OW! Quit it!"

"I will when you talk to me." MJ glared.

"What is there to talk about?" He replied moodily.

"Oh I don't know, maybe the fact that you almost killed someone?" She said harshly, causing Peter to flinch. "I get that you feel scared, maybe out of control, but damn it Peter! You're not the only one who's feeling that way!" If her boyfriend wanted to feel guilty, then she would oblige. Maybe, if he felt bad enough for her, he'd snap out of his funk and focus on making things better. Her plan didn't really have what you would call logic involved, but she couldn't worry about that now.

"How do you think I feel? Watching the ONE person I have left on this earth try and kill someone. You know Goddamn well if that punch connected, we'd be pulling Willow parts out of our hair." MJ gauged his reaction. So far no good. "What were you thinking? Were you thinking? Did you ever consider how I might react to seeing you murder someone?" Peter flinched again. She decided to up the anti and started poking him. "Answer me! What the hell was going through that mind of yours when you picked up that woman and raised your fists?!"

"YOU!" Peter shouted. "I was worried about you."

'Finally.' She thought.

"When Willow made me stop and she started controlling me, I lost it. I thought she might hurt you. I lost it." He repeated miserably. "Aunt May, Uncle Ben, my parents, Gwen. Everybody I have ever cared about is dead. Except for you. I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you. I really can't."

MJ went to hug him, but he backed away. "Why won't you let me touch you?"

"I.." Peter shook his head.

Mary-Jane sighed. "Peter... " She had hoped that when he started to talk about what he was feeling when he attacked Willow, it might get him to start talking about what was going through his mind now. MJ had a really, really, good idea, but she's been wrong before.

'What the hell,' she thought 'might as well go for it.' MJ took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but was interrupted by the phone ringing.

-

Willow answered. "Hello?"

"Where's Xander?" The caller asked instead of greeting.

Willow raised an eyebrow at the abrupt question. "I don't know. Maybe you could try his apartment."

Buffy mouthed 'Who is it?'

'Anya' Willow mouthed back. Buffy nodded and went back to icing away the rather large amount of pain her arm was in.

Anya let out an annoyed, yet somehow worried, huff. "Where do you think I'm calling you from? Xander's missing and I need for you to get your witchy ass in gear and help me find him!"

Willow frowned. "Anya, what makes you think Xander's missing?"

Buffy gave Willow's conversation her undivided attention.

Anya took a deep breath. "He called me last night to ask me to watch Spike while he went to work. When I showed up here this morning and knocked on the door, I got no response. So I used my key to get in and it was a mess. Not the "I-left-my-fiancee-at-the-alter-and-now-have-to-clean-the-apartment-myself" mess that one would expect, no. The door to what looks like Spike's room is broken down, and there are signs of a struggle. Not much of one, but still. So then I called his construction site to see if Xander was there, but they told me he didn't come to work that morning. Then I went to all the places that he likes to go, but I didn't find him. So now I'm calling you. Where's Xander?" She asked again in a more frightened tone.

Willow didn't know what to say. She just kept saying "I..." over and over. After the fourth one, Anya told her to put Buffy on the line.

"Have you seen him?" Buffy said she hadn't. "Great. He's either on a date with some hussy, or he's getting himself killed. Knowing his luck, it's both. Ooh I hate him!"

"Anya, was Spike there?" Buffy asked, worried. If Xander got hurt because she left him alone with Spike, she'd never forgive herself.

Anya thought for a moment. "I thought I saw a big pile of dust over by his room, but it might just be untidiness. Xander really needs to figure out how to use a vacuum. And to not be dead."

"So that's a no then?" Buffy closed her eyes tiredly. She looked at the clock. It wasn't even 2 in the afternoon.

"We'll be right over." She hung up the phone, and turned to Willow. "Let's go."

Willow was right behind her until ... "Oh the kids! What do we do with them?"

-

"Now listen. We have to go. One of our friends might be in trouble." Buffy informed the two emotional wrecks before her.

Mary-Jane looked alarmed. "You're leaving us?"

Peter raised his hand. "Um... Can I help?"

MJ smiled, pleased that her boyfriend was taking in interest in something. Buffy and Willow were both surprised by what sounded like a genuine offer to help from the kid that almost killed Willow and maybe broke Buffy's arm. The two gave him an appraising look.

Willow spoke up first. "Do you promise not to get all punchy?" She asked angrily.

"Do you promise not to make me do stuff and throw me against the wall?" Peter shot back.

Willow blushed in embarrassment and shame. She had forgotten that. "I promise." She told him in a much softer voice than she used before.

"Then me too." He said in much the same tone.

"Good. Now that that's settled." Buffy said. "Let's go."

As they were headed out the door, MJ asked why Buffy's right sleeve was wet.


	7. Chapter 7

This was not a good idea. Buffy, Willow, Peter, and Mary-Jane were all walking to Xander's apartment and bringing the kids along was in fact, one of the worst ideas Buffy's had in a good long while.

But what else could she do? She couldn't leave them alone at the house. If Xander was missing, there would be no force capable of stopping Willow from finding him so she couldn't stay with them. No way in hell would she leave them with Dawn. Peter Parker was strong. Crazy strong. There are very few demons out there that can hurt her like he did, and Buffy has magical durability. Or something. Giles explained it to her once, but she kinda zoned out when he started using words like "promptitude," and "pertinacity."

The point was though, she was tough. And as such, not many things can hurt her. This kid Peter? Did. He hurt her enough to make it dangerous to patrol tonight. If Xander is in trouble, if he needs help of the slaying variety, she won't be able to give it her best. Buffy's face darkened. If her injury costs Xander his life ... well let's just say it won't be pretty.

The slayer glanced back at her other best friend. She smirked fleetingly at the annoyed look on Willow's face. It looked as though she was seriously regretting her promise not to use any magic on Peter. And since the kid has been ranting the whole trip thus far, who could blame her?

"You people don't have cars?" Peter was stunned. It seemed like the more questions he asked, the more he found to criticize. "I mean, how do you get around? What if there was a situation that needed you to be there pretty much now and you got held up because you had to walk?"

"Peter, sweetie? Shut up." MJ was really getting tired of this. If he went on any longer, she would happily kick him in the gonads.

"But..." Peter began.

"But nothing. Just be quite and let's go." She ordered him. "Obviously Buffy and her friends have been able to keep the world from ending. Even without cars." The potential slayer stared at the actual slayer's back. She felt some kind of empathy with her. Like her, she too had once been a potential. Buffy Summers knew exactly what the younger girl was going through.

Willow heard MJ's vote of confidence, and smiled at her. MJ caught it out of the corner of her eye and smiled back.

-

By the time they arrived at Xander's apartment, Anya was in hysterics. One might even go so far as to say she was inconsolable. Willow tried to calm her down, to get her to talk about what happened, but got nowhere. Finally Willow slapped her. Instinctively, Anya slapped her back.

"Thanks." The former vengeance demon said. "That helped."

Willow rubbed her cheek and scowled at her friend. "No problem."

"What happened here?" Buffy wanted to know.

Anya walked up to Buffy and grabbed her shoulders. Buffy winced in pain. "You have to save him!" She demanded. "Xander's in trouble, and we need to spend less time talking, and more time rescuing!" Nobody moved. "What are you all waiting for? Go! Mush! Save Xander!"

Willow looked confused. "From what?"

Something wasn't adding up for Buffy. "Anya, when you called, you were concerned, but nowhere near this level. What happened?"

Anya grew silent. She hated herself. She shouldn't be this worked up over him. After all, he left her, he abandoned her. But he said he still loves her. Damn it!

"I saw him. Just now." Anya told them. "I was sitting on the couch, waiting for you to show up. It wouldn't hurt if any of you got a driver's license by the way."

At that, Peter smirked at his girlfriend. "See?" he asked quietly. She elbowed him in response.

Anya stared at the two teens mistrustfully. "Who are they?"

Willow was getting impatient. "We'll tell you later. What about Xander?"

Her lesbian friend was right. That could wait. "Like I said, I was waiting for you to show, when I saw him."

Buffy and Willow shared a concerned glance. "You saw Xander?" the witch clarified.

Anya nodded. "Yes. I was sitting on the couch and he walked out of Spike's room." Her gaze became distant as she remembered what happened. "I walked up to him, asked where he'd been and how he got in there, when he said: 'Anya. Help me.' Then he burst into flames and disappeared." Anya choked back a sob. "He looked hurt. I didn't notice at first, but he was hurt. And scared." The sobs and tears came full force and the she didn't try to fight them.

Willow embraced her distraught friend as she and Buffy shared a worried look. They wondered if this had anything to do with what happened to them all last night.

-

Rupert Giles was angry. He'd just finished a meeting with Quentin Travers, chairman of the Council of Watchers, so that wasn't a surprise. What was surprising was the fact that the Council knew why he had requested the meeting in the first place. Potential slayers around the world were being murdered, and the Council was aware of this. Giles had asked why neither he, nor his slayer had been apprised of this situation.

The Council's reasoning was that the Slayer needs to keep her energies focused on the Hellmouth.

One could see the logic in that. No need for the slayer to divert her attention from her duties. Not when the Council has many available resources that, when put to use, could find and protect the girls that potentially hold the fate of the world on their shoulders.

Except that wasn't happening. The Council of Watchers has effectively ceased their search for potential slayers. Travers has pulled all available manpower from the search and placed them around the potentials already under the Council's umbrella.

"But why, Quentin?" Giles desperately wanted to know.

"Because Rupert." Travers began solemnly, "We must make sure that the potentials under our care survive. We must look after our own."

"And of the girls yet to be found?" Giles demanded.

The answer was a cold one. "They are a tragic, but acceptable loss."

It took all of Giles willpower and restraint not to hit the bastard. He stormed out of the meeting with murder in his eyes.

'If they won't do something to help those girls, then I will!' He thought to himself furiously, heading toward the Council's library.

Quentin Travers sat in his office. Some people didn't understand that, for the greater good, sacrifice must be made. Rupert Giles is a passionate man. Though some of the points he made were valid, his judgement has long been influenced by the fatherly affection he feels for his slayer. Quentin sighed heavily, and pressed his intercom.

"Sarah, please bring me all available files on Watcher Rupert Giles and Slayer Buffy Summers."

-

The girl smiled, and spoke. "Before time began. Before the fall of the Gods. I was there. I laughed as Cain slew Able, finally succumbing to my influence. I delighted as the first monkey killed another, over something so small as a dry spot to hide from the rain. My power can be felt in the hearts of everyone. I have caused civilizations to crumble. I have made children into monsters." She placed her hand through a stone. "Yet I have no purchase here, in this physical realm. That my preacher, is where you come in."

Caleb stood transfixed as he listened to her voice. He knew, now, that the one who saved his life was not the Lord, but something greater. Something wonderful. He knelt in reverence.

The girl smiled again. A pleasing expression full of sweetness and sunshine. "You don't have to do that, y'know." She said in amused exasperation.

Caleb lowered his eyes. "But how can I not? To be in the presence of your glory? To bask in the light of this darkness? I can't ... I'm not worthy to look upon it, or what you offer."

The girl walked up to her servant. "Raise your eyes." She commanded gently. He obeyed. Her face was soft and perfect. Her eyes held a gentleness and the promise of a peace not known by man. Caleb looked into those beautiful eyes and felt tears form in his own.

She smiled that perfect smile. "My dear boy, why do you you're here?"

The girl's expression grew sinister, and she shoved her hand through Caleb's torso. Her lovely countenance vanished. In it's place was something that could only be described as Evil. The thing heard it's slave's screams and reveled in them as it's power flowed into the mortal man.

The agony seemed to go on, and on, until it stopped. It was done, and Caleb knew he would never feel pain again. He picked up the stone. The one her hand passed through.

"And with the hand of truth he did squeeze," the stone shattered, "and all knew as they looked upon him, that he was filled with the vengeance, and the glory, and the wrath."

The girl was back and she smiled at her creation with satisfaction. "Amen."


	8. Chapter 8

Dawn was walking through the halls of the newly rebuilt Sunnydale High School. Her progress was slow due to her injured feet, and she was late to class because of it.

'Crap.' She thought to herself. Dawn really didn't want another detention. 'Maybe if I told them I stepped on a big honking pile of glass?' It was the truth after all, she just didn't have to mention why there was glass all over the place. Lost in her thoughts, Dawn failed to notice the person ahead of her, and freaked a little when they gently grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Woah! Dawn! Chill. It's me." Xander smiled warmly at her. "There's no need to spaz out."

"God! Xander." Dawn chuckled self-depreciatingly. "Sorry, I was lost in my head a little." She frowned. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought all the construction was done?"

Xander put his hands in his pockets and started walking. Dawn walked beside him. "Oh it is, thank God, but I had to come back and pick up some stuff the crew left behind. But that's not why I came looking for you."

"You were looking for me? Is something wrong?" She asked, mildly alarmed.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I found something kinda freaky looking in the basement. I'm thinking evil, but I was hoping to get a second opinion."

"What about Buffy?" Dawn reminded him.

"I couldn't find her." He said. The girl nodded, having been reminded her sister was with Peter and MJ. After they got done here, she'll bring him up to speed with that. Xander smirked. "Besides, I wouldn't call sitting on your butt listening to whiny kids work. No offense."

"None taken. You would not believe some of the crap my so called peers complain about." She made a face. "Kirsty is the worst. Did you know she told everyone I'm bulimic? Just because I got all tall and have, like, a great ass."

Xander smiled knowingly. "Not only does fighting the forces of darkness put everything into perspective, it's also great exercise, what with all the running for your life."

Dawn nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, perspective! It's like: Who cares who's dating who when there's a hellmouth right under you and you might end up getting eaten or sacrificed?"

"Not to mention the turning invisible possibility." Xander added.

"Exactly." Dawn frowned in confusion once she realized what Xander said. "Wait. Invisible?"

"Yeah, it was a whole thing." He sorta clarified as they reached the entrance to the basement. He opened the door and went down. "The maybe evil is down here. This girl, Marcie, got ignored a whole bunch then turned invisible because of it."

"Really? Wow." Dawn exclaimed as she followed him. "What happened to her? Did her cells break down like what almost happened to Buffy when SHE was invisible?"

"Nah, she just went nuts, tried to cut up Cordelia's face, then got swallowed up by the MIB." He told her as they turned a corner.

"Why did she want to cut up Cordelia's face?"

"Cordy was the most popular girl in school, and Marcie was the exact opposite. She felt it was Cordy's fault she ended up like that. It was too, kinda. I mean, me and Willow never talked to her either. Nobody did. It made her feel like a non entity so much, she was turned into one." Xander opened a door.

"That's so sad!" Dawn lamented. Anything more she had to say on the subject was lost when she caught site of what Xander was trying to show her. "What is that?"

"Y'know, it took Marcie assaulting people for us to even notice she was missing." He went on like he didn't hear her question. "It's not surprising. After all, girls go missing in Sunnydale all the time."

Xander smiled at Dawn as she continued to stare at the object in fascination.

-

Buffy winced as she moved her right arm. Yep, it was definitely broken. Fortunately, it wasn't too much worse than the time that bitch Sunday hurt it. Sunday. What a stupid name. Who in the hell names themselves after a day of the week anyway? Stupid name.

The slayer sighed. Digression was fun and all, but it didn't help matters any. Xander was still missing. And wasn't that a terrifying thought? It was for good reason he was the heart of the Super-Slayer she became in order to beat Adam. He was a rock. The guy she went to when she needed help. Especially once Giles and Willow left for England. If it weren't for him, she'd never have gotten through this past summer.

Would never have been able to deal with Spike trying to rape her.

Bastard would have done it too, if she hadn't kicked him off. The vampire realized, after the fact, what he almost did, but that was no help at all. What helped was Xander. With Willow off in England recovering, he focused all his energies on being the best possible guy ever. He talked with Buffy about her relationship with Spike, and was surprisingly non-judgmental too. He made her laugh, even when she didn't want to. He was there for Dawn when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

Not that he was completely selfless. It was mutually beneficial, his attentions. They helped keep his mind off of Willow, the one he couldn't help. Willow is the one Xander's closest to. It was the emotional bond they share that allowed Xander to break through to her when she lashed out after Tara's murder.

Still. It was a tremendous comfort, to both her and Dawn, knowing that they could count on him. The mere idea of Xander not there was too horrible to contemplate. So contemplate it she would not.

Buffy considered everybody in Xander's apartment. Willow and Mary-Jane were looking for clues, Anya was sitting on the couch looking absolutely lost. It was very disconcerting to see the normally unflappable woman like that. It brought to mind Xander and Anya's disastrous not-wedding. The last time she was this devastated, she turned back into a vengeance demon.

Then there was Peter. Buffy watched him as he stood off to the side, a guilty expression on his face. That boy was a mystery. Where did he get those powers? He wasn't a demon because she couldn't sense his presence... Maybe he's a mutant? Or an alien? She considered the possibility of his being extraterrestrial for a moment before dismissing it as ridiculous. If he was actually a mutant, did that mean those awful Sentinel thingies were on their way? She hoped not. Buffy was tough, no doubt, but there was absolutely no freaking way she could take out a giant robot with laser beams coming from it's hands.

Peter noticed Buffy staring at him and looked away quickly. He didn't know what to say. It wasn't like he could go up to her and be all: "Hey sorry for breaking your arm and almost killing Willow." He sighed. Might as well start looking for clues too. Peter looked up at the ceiling and a thought occurred to him.

"There aren't any scorch marks." He said out loud.

Willow turned to him. "What?"

Peter pointed up. "No scorch marks. No burns, no nothing. Where did you say you saw your friend burn up?" He asked Anya.

She stared at the kid for a second, then pointed next to the couch. "Right over there. And he's not my friend, I hate him." She protested miserably, before breaking down into a fresh set of tears. "I hate him so much!" Anya sobbed.

Willow put a comforting arm around her. "I know you do. We'll find him soon, so you'll be able to tell him that to his face."

The blonde sniffled. "I hope so."

Buffy stared at the spot Anya pointed to. "He's right, there's nothing. No burn marks on the floor or the ceiling. He wasn't really here."

Anya looked at Buffy like she was stupid. "Of course he wasn't really here. Unless Harris learned how to spontaneously combust, it was an illusion."

Willow frowned. "If you knew it was an illusion, how come you're so broken up?"

The outspoken woman turned to her friend. "What are you? Deficient? That was astral projection! Xander was calling for help with his mind!" With a glare, Willow told her Xander didn't know how to do such things. "Not normally, no, but during extreme duress? Absolutely. Humans have the ability to do that you know. There are many documented cases of it occurring." Anya's voice cracked. "Usually when they die."

Willow held Anya's hand and smiled. "It must have been something else. Xander's not dead. We'd know."

Anya grabbed at Willow's shirt eagerly. "You put a spell on him? One that tells you when he dies?"

Peter and MJ looked at each other. They could do that?

The witch sputtered out a response. "Well... I mean... It's... I'd just know. Y'know?"

"No. I don't." Anya's hopeful expression shattered into a million shards and she just went back to sitting on the couch looking miserable.

Mary-Jane raised her hand. "Um, excuse me?" Buffy acknowledged her. "I was just wondering..." The potential swallowed nervously at being the center of attention. "What else is there that can do that? Make illusions like that? Wuh...what if that was a spell?"

Willow shook her head. "It's a good thought, but I'd be able to tell if anyone used magic here." The younger redhead nodded, feeling like an idiot for saying anything. Willow looked at Buffy, who has yet to offer an opinion. There was a look of terrible realization on her face. "Buffy? What is it?".

"Nothing." She said quickly. "It was just..." She trailed off. "Doesn't matter." It can't be that! Please God, don't let it be that! "Mary's right. It must've been some kinda spell." Willow opened her mouth to protest. "Don't." Buffy said almost desperately. "Right now, I need you to do a locator spell. Anya help her."

She turned to the kids. "The three of us are going to have a little conversion."

-

Buffy brought Mary-Jane and Peter into Xander's bedroom. The blonde slayer paced a bit while the teens watched her go back and forth. She stopped in front of Peter.

"What are you?" Buffy asked without preamble. "I've been hit harder, but not by anything human."

Peter opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just stared ashamedly at Buffy while she stared cooly back. After a few moments, she focused her attentions on MJ.

"What makes you think you're a potential?"

After a quick glance to her boyfriend, she told her. She told Buffy about the nightmares, about how her mother and Peter's aunt were killed by Bringers right in front of her, how Peter saved her life, about Wong and how he sent them to her.

Buffy took a minute to process all of it. "What about your father?"

"I don't know. He left us a few months ago and I haven't heard from him since."

Her stern expression softened. That was something she could wholeheartedly relate to.

Buffy spoke to Peter. "You hurt my arm."

He stared down at his shoes. "I'm sorry."

"I know, but that's not why I brought it up." He raised his eyes to meet her own. "Right now, I don't care if you're a mutant, demon, or an alien, I just need to know if I can trust you."

Peter Parker swallowed nervously while staring into those piercing green eyes, and prepared to divulge his biggest, deepest, secret. He took a deep breath.

"I got bit by a spider."

Buffy blinked. "What?"

"It's true, he did." MJ assured. "I was there. A big spider came out of no-where and bit him."

Buffy sighed wearily. "I got bit by a mosquito once, doesn't mean I go around sucking blood. Hell, I even got bit by VAMPIRES and still nothing!"

Peter held out his hands in a placating way. "I was in an Oscorp genetics lab when I got bit." Buffy gave the teen s confused look. "The spider was subjected to an experimental formula called "Oz". The formula was Oscorp's attempt at duplicating the super-soldier serum." He explained, but Buffy's expression only became more uncomprehending. "Captain America?" Understanding finally lit in Buffy's eyes.

"The shield guy!" She exclaimed, happy to finally get something.

"Yeah, him."

She goggled at Peter. "Ohmigod! Are you another one?"

He shook his head. "No. Oz was flawed, so Osborne was testing it on animals. One of them was the spider that bit me. When it did that, it gave me some of it's attributes. I can cling to any surface, toss a car, and jump, like, half a mile. Oh, and I also got some kinda spider-sense."

Buffy stared at him in continued amazement. "Are you telling me you're Spider-Man?" He nodded seriously, then jumped up to the ceiling and looked down at her. She stared back. "I saw you on TV fighting the HULK! No wonder you broke my arm!"

Willow opened the door and began talking to Buffy while rummaging through a bureau. "I'm getting ready to perform the spell. Anya and me just got back from the house with the supplies we need, and I'm just getting something of Xander's to... to..." She trailed off when she turned around and noticed what her friend was staring at.

Peter gave her a rueful look. "Um, hi."

"Oh wow." She breathed softly.

-

He didn't need to review these files. After all, it was he who assigned Rupert Giles to her. It was he who oversaw her success during the Cruciamentum, and it was he who dismissed Giles for his failure during it.

Indeed, Quentin Travers considered himself to be very familiar with Slayer Summers and her Watcher. It was why he ventured to the hellmouth during the Glory incident. Yes. There was only one reason he requested those files. If Rupert intended going to do something rash, and Quentin was certain he was, then it was only prudent to make sure he knew all he could about them.

The ringing of the phone interrupted his studies.

"Yes?" He greeted gruffly. Slowly a resigned look settled on his weathered face. "I see. Thank you for informing me. Good evening." Quentin hung up the phone and stared at a photo of Giles.

The brash fool has stolen several books from the library. Irreplaceable books containing valuable information concerning The First. Books his people would need if they were to ever find a way to stop It's assault.

No doubt the man was already on his way back to America. It would be useless to stop the Airlines, he'd probably just convince those old hags at the Devonshire Coven to teleport him over. And once he is under his Slayer's protection, the Council's Special Services Unit would be hard pressed to reach him.

If The Council and Buffy Summers were to be in conflict once again, it would be a good idea to fight fire with fire.

Quentin Travers picked up the phone once again. "Sarah, I'm going to need to make a transatlantic telephone call. Yes. The California Department of Corrections. There's a good girl."

-

Colonel Nick Fury sat at his desk and read the report. Further investigations by the psychics to find Peter Parker were met with disastrous, and occasionally fatal, results. He dropped the file back down on the desk in disgust and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a headache.

To top it off, while his techs were able to recreate the web-shooters, they have yet to replicate the formula Parker uses for his webbing. Fury smiled sardonically. If for no other reason, he needed to find this kid and put him to work. Especially if he can invent things the world's best and brightest scientists couldn't crack.

He opened a desk draw, pulled out a red mask, and stared at it.

"Where are you kid?"


	9. Chapter 9

Peter hopped down from the ceiling and nervously held out his hand to the astonished Willow.

"I just wanna say I'm sorry for what I almost did. I know that's not enough, but I hope it can be a start?" He asked humbly.

Willow stared down at his offered appendage with a dumbstruck expression.

"I... you... what?" She sputtered.

Mary-Jane rolled her eyes at her boyfriends lack of common sense. Now was not the time for apologies. Now was the time for exposition. She elbowed Peter in the ribs.

"OW! Jeez! You'd think my spider-sense would warn me when you do that!" He snarked while rubbing his side.

"Obviously it's for your own good!" MJ shot back.

Willow just continued to stare, and so it was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes.

"Will, are you kidding me? After everything we've seen, there's no way Peter sticking to the ceiling should have this kind of affect."

"What?" Willow shook her head in an effort to gather her thoughts. "No... I mean, yes, but no. It's just, what are you?" She asked Peter.

He opened his mouth to answer, but Buffy stopped him.

"If you're going to explain it all again, might as well do it in the living room so Anya can hear it too."

And though he was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, Peter nodded and walked out of the bedroom.

Anya looked up from her preparations. "Finally! How long does it take to grab some underpants?"

Peter gave her a bemused look. "What?"

"Not you, her." She explained, pointing to Willow who was squeezing her way around the confused teen.

He scratched his head. "Underpants?"

Buffy pushed Peter out of the way. "Yep. We need something personal of Xander's in order to perform the spell, and what's more personal than underwear?" She stared hopefully at the Superman silk boxers Willow was placing in the center of her magic circle.

MJ giggled nervously at that and Peter shrugged.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Ready?" Anya asked Willow.

"Yeah, but..." The ex-demon grabbed Willow's hands before she could finish and gave her an expectant look.

"Then let's get hopping."

Willow glanced over at Peter and pulled her hands out. "But what about...?"

"No buts. Spell time." Anya grabbed the hands again.

Willow pulled them back out and Anya snatched them back with a somewhat hurt glare. Willow saw the glare and raised her a frustrated scowl. The two women pulled Willow's hands back and forth in a heated tug-o-war.

"Ow, Anya!"

"We need to find Xander!"

"Let go!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Whacked out lesbian!"

"Capitalist slave driver!"

"Commie!"

At that, Willow let out an indignant "Hey!" and vehemently denied being anything other than a complete patriot.

"If that were true, then you'd stop all the lollygagging and find Xander." Anya said haughtily.

Meanwhile, Peter had leaned over to his girlfriend and asked her, in an aside, why Willow protested the commie remark, but let the lesbian one slide.

MJ sighed in exasperation and refused to dignify that with a response.

Finally, Buffy had enough.

"Enough!" She yelled, and pulled her friends to their feet. Of course, Anya and Willow didn't let something like being held apart by a Slayer keep them from trying to get at each other.

"She started it!" Willow shouted, to Anya's great offense.

"No I didn't. You did! You won't find Xander!" She tried to pull away from Buffy's strong grip, but couldn't. "How can you call yourself his best friend?" Anya asked coldly.

The question stunned Willow into silence. Judging by the look on her face, however, that wouldn't last long. Buffy too, realized the imminent danger and spoke up first.

"I told Willow to wait!" She said to Anya. "Willow saw something that's messing with her concentration and I wanted it explained before she tried anything."

Anya didn't respond. She just stared at Buffy sullenly while Willow gave her a smug smile.

Buffy wasn't finished. She turned her angry expression to Willow. "But that doesn't mean you can act like a five year old. Xander's still missing and this kind of behavior isn't helping any!"

The redhead's face fell and there was shame in her eyes.

"You're right. I'm sorry." She said sincerely to both women. Buffy and Willow then looked expectantly towards Anya.

"What?" She asked defensively. They glared and Anya huffed. "Fine." She pulled herself out of Buffy's grasp, straightened her shirt, cleared her throat, took a deep breath, then apologized very quickly. "Are you happy? Can we move on now?"

As soon as Buffy let go of her, Willow turned to Peter.

"So, why were you on the ceiling?" She asked.

Peter looked around the room and saw all eyes were on him.

"Uh... Well, you see, it all starts like this: I got bit by a spider."

Willow and Anya exchanged dubious glances.

"So?" Anya asked. "I got bit by a dog once. Yet you don't see me going around peeing on fire hydrants and humping people's legs."

MJ and Buffy stifled any obvious evidence of their amusement, Peter just rubbed his face tiredly.

-

It was cold. That was the first thing Dawn noticed. The second was the chains. They were wrapped all around her, binding her arms to her sides, weighing down her legs. Hell, they were even holding her up! Panic began to set in and the frightened young girl struggled futilely at her bonds.

Dawn was able fight off the panic and tried to assess her situation. She was in some kind of cave, which is bad. She was chained up tighter than Marley's ghost, also bad. But the worst thing, she decided, was her cellmate.

Spike.

He too was chained. Though not nearly as much as her. Dawn wondered briefly on the logic behind that as observed her companion. He was dirty, his clothes were in tatters, he'd been beaten, and he was raving madly.

"Can't have! Didn't have! Won't have! It wasn't me! I didn't do it! Not any of it! No! No. No. No. No. NO!" The deranged vampire slammed his head against the rocky wall behind him and roared in pain, bringing out his vamp face.

His movements stilled suddenly. Spike noticed Dawn was awake! She watched at him apprehensively. He stared back.

WIthout warning, the demon rushed forward, only to stop once he reached the end of his chains. Spike leaned in as close to her as he could. His yellow eyes bore into Dawn's soul, sending a primal fear throughout her body.

"What are you doing here?" Spike wondered. "Are you real?" He chuckled frighteningly. "I can't tell."

Dawn whimpered, despite her best efforts.

"What's going on?" She asked bravely. Foolishly.

Spike snorted. "I don't talk to you. You're not real." He informed her in a singsong voice.

That old accusation still hurt, but Dawn did her best to ignore it.

"I know I wasn't, but I am now." She began to breath heavy. "Buffy says you have a soul now. Is that true?"

Spike nodded once slowly.

"Can you help me?" She asked, breathlessly.

He shook his head.

Dawn started hyperventilating.

"Oh God." She said, brokenly. "Why not?" Tears streamed from her face and those yellow eyes followed them.

Spike smiled. "Because I'm evil."

He began to laugh.

Dawn let out a piteous moan. She could feel her panic returning. Soon the cavern prison was filled with the eerie sounds of fear and madness.

-

Willow was in open mouth awe. Spider-Man! In her house! Well not right now, but he was! He was sitting on her couch, eating her cookies! At least until she used evil magic on him forcing him to fight back! Oh God! What if that made her a super-villian? Or would that be super-villainess? Did it matter? No! As if trying to end the world wasn't enough guilt, now she had do deal with having attacked an honest to God hero!

Anya, on the other hand, just shrugged and sat back down at the circle.

"Big deal." she said offhandedly. "I've met Dracula."

Both Peter and Mary-Jane's eyes bugged out.

"Really?" MJ asked.

Buffy sighed. "Yeah, yeah. We all met Dracula, but I'm the only one that kicked his ass."

MJ stared at the Slayer in awe. "Wow." she said breathlessly.

Buffy grew a little uncomfortable at the younger girl's star struck expression.

"Look, he was just a vampire." Buffy said. "Can we get back to the locator spell?"

Willow shook her head of all errant thoughts.

"Right." She nodded and sat down across from Anya. The women clasped hands and Willow began to concentrate. The words to the spell flowed from her lips as though they were eager to be released. Her voice grew deeper and stronger as she prayed to the Gods to find her beloved friend.

Anya watched hopefully as the map before her began to glow. Mystical energies flowed and ebbed along it's surface.

Suddenly, and without warning, those energies fled. Dispersed into nothingness without ever fixating on a single spot.

"What?" Anya cried in alarm as Willow slumped. "Where'd they go?" She looked up at the exhausted witch. "What did you do wrong?" She demanded harshly.

Willow didn't respond. Buffy cautiously knelt beside her.

"Will?" She asked as she steadied her friend.

"I'm all right." She told her. "It's just a little overwhelming."

Buffy looked down at the map. "What went wrong?" She asked.

Willow shook her head. "Nothing. The spell worked perfectly."

"No it didn't!" Anya said. "If it did, there'd be a little blue dot waiting for us to rescue him!"

"There's nothing. I know." Willow conceded. "But the spell isn't the issue. Someone is cloaking him. We won't find him like this."

Buffy nodded grimly. "Will, is there any way of finding out if he's alive?"

Willow took a deep breath, then explained the exact purpose of the spell she'd just used. It was designed to locate a body, not a person. If that body was alive, then the spot would be blue. If it was dead, then it would be black. The fact that nothing showed up indicated that a powerful spell had been cast on Xander to hide him from anybody that might be looking for him.

Anya threw her hands up in frustration. "So you're saying we don't know anything?"

Willow shook her head. "We know that whoever took Xander doesn't want him found." She smiled reassuringly. "If he were dead, why would they care?"

Buffy took that straw and grasped it.

"Then we look for him the old fashioned way."

Anya looked at the Slayer hopefully. "You mean by beating people up?" She could certainly use the violence.

Buffy looked down at her injured arm and looked at Peter.

"I think it's time you made this up to me." She informed him. "You ready for a little legwork?"

Peter nodded.


	10. Chapter 10

Spike had fallen asleep. Actually, it was more like Spike wigged out and broke his head by slamming it on the wall repeatedly. Whatever. Just so long as he's unconscious. Dawn's previous panic had run it's course, and been replaced by determination. Buffy wouldn't let this freak her out and neither would she.

Of course, Buffy has super-strength and Dawn can barely lift a sword at the moment, but it was either blind optimism, or go back to panicking. Besides, It's not like she couldn't panic later if she wanted to. So optimism it is.

First things first. She needed to figure out how she got here. Spike didn't know, or wouldn't say, and her kidnapper didn't have the decency to show up and start bragging. The second thing she wanted to know was, what happened to Xander.

Did he get kidnapped too? Did he escape and find Buffy? This last option was the one Dawn prayed for more than anything to be not true. He could be dead. Whoever got her could've just killed him.

Whoever, whatever, attacked them, definitely had all kinds of elements of surprise on their side. One minute, she was looking at the probably evil thing Xander found, the next she was wetting her pants (Not literally, thank God!) at the sight of a psycho ensouled vampire who claimed to be evil.

That was another issue too. Spike said he's evil, but he doesn't act like it. Judging by his ranting, it actually sound more like he's feeling guilty about something. Something he wished he didn't do, or wouldn't do? Whatever. It wasn't important. Not yet anyway.

Dawn tested the chains that bound her and, yep, still metal. She looked around to see if there was anything she might be able to use to escape. Nope, nothing. Looks like she'd have to wait, either until Buffy shows up, or her captors make a mistake. Dawn sighed. If she's wishing for things, she might as well wish for Spike to wake up, snap back to sanity, break free of his chains, then break her chains, so together they could fight their way to safety.

Dawn looked at the vampire expectantly. He drooled a little.

She glared at him. "Nuts."

"Kinda disappointing isn't it?" Came a blessedly familiar voice.

A look of relief exploded onto Dawn's face.

"Buffy!" She cried out. "Oh thank God!" She yanked on the chains a bit. "Hurry up and get these off, I don't know when somebody's going to show up!"

Her sister didn't move.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked. "What are you doing?" Buffy smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile, and when Dawn spoke again, there was fear in her voice. "Buffy, please!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Y'know something sis, you're a pain in the ass. So much sometimes, that I wish you were never born."

Dawn was stunned. "Wuh... what?" This couldn't be happening!

Buffy smiled sadistically. "Of course, that's actually the case isn't it?" She started walking around the cave with her hands clasped behind her back. "I mean, you're not actually my sister, right? You're just the Key. A thing. Oh sure, you may look like a person," Buffy conceded," heck, you even smell like one, but it's a lie. Isn't it Dawnie?"

Tears were running down Dawn's face as she glared at her questioner.

"Who are you?" She demanded hatefully. "Why do you look like Buffy!"

The woman stopped walking. "What do you mean?" She asked innocently, walking up to Dawn.

"You know exactly what I mean!" Dawn told her. "You aren't my sister!"

Buffy sighed dramatically. "What the hell do you think this whole conversation's been about?" She asked in exasperation. "Duh! Get a clue Pun'kin Belly."

Dawn's eyes widened in shock. "How...?"

"Did I know about that?" Buffy finished. "The same way I remember the time you, me, and Dad went to Disneyland while Mom was on a business trip." Buffy smiled in fond remembrance. "I wanted to go on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, but you had to be a baby and freak out when you saw Goofy."

Dawn's shock grew. "There's just no way." She said in disbelief.

"C'mon Dawnie," Buffy chided, purposely mistaking Dawn's expression. "you weren't that young, you gotta remember it!" She sighed in amusement. "You thought Goofy was really a robot and that he was gonna try and kill you, like in that episode of the Simpsons when they went to Itchy and Scratchy land." The woman laughed. "I thought Dad was going to have a heart attack when you ran off." She smirked. "It took an hour for us to find you! Do you remember where?"

Dawn nodded. "In line at Pirates of the Caribbean."

Buffy smiled knowingly. "Nope, it was at Cinderella's castle. You thought she could help you find me and Dad." Dawn stared at her in open mouthed horror. That was it! That was exactly it! Right down to the reason why she went to that stupid castle!

Dawn glared at the image of her sister. "I don't know how you know all that, but I don't care. You. Are not. Buffy."

For an instant, Buffy's lovely face was clouded by hate. But as quickly as it formed, it left.

"Y'know, I've always wondered why Mom died, even after the surgery was successful." She started conversationally. "Wanna know what I think?"

Dawn said nothing.

"I think it was you." The woman admitted. "I think it was because the monks INVADED her already weak brain to alter her memories. Maybe if that didn't happen, Mom wouldn't have died." She smiled. "Maybe," She whispered, "Maybe she wouldn't have even gotten sick in the first place." The woman wearing Buffy's face pulled back. "Why don't you think on that for a little while?"

She vanished, and Dawn was left alone with her grief and anger.

-

Sometimes, Willy thought, he'd rather be in LA. At least there, people knew how to treat their information brokers! It wasn't all, "Let's beat up old Willy if he won't say anything!" No, in LA they paid you for your services. Of course, LA also had Wolfram and Hart while the Mayor had welcomed him in with open arms.

"Every burg needs a little oil to turn the cogs Willy." His Honor said cheerfully when he put Willy under his protection. "And you're so oily, I'm surprised you don't burst into flames under the sun like a gosh darn vampire."

That was the only time he'd ever see the Mayor face to face, which was good because all that Leave It to Beaver wholesomeness was too creepy for words. Although, Willy did miss that protection. It certainly came in handy during situations like this.

"So are you gonna talk, or is my friend here going to stick you up there?" Buffy Summers asked while Peter Parker stood on the ceiling and dangled the man from his ankles.

Peter looked a little uncomfortable with all of this. "Could you just tell her what she wants to know?"

Willy looked up at his stain covered floor. "I'd love to kid, believe me I would, but I just don't know anything."

"C'mon Willy, tell the truth." Buffy coaxed.

"I am!" Willy gasped, getting dizzy. "Oh I think I'm gonna puke." He moaned.

Buffy winced. "Yuck. Don't get any up your nose." Peter made a face. That was just gross.

"Listen Slayer," He began desperately, "business has bad lately! Really! The only people that come in here anymore are vamps! When I asked where everybody else was, the blood suckers told me they ran off!"

"Why?" Buffy asked warily.

Willy shrugged. "I don't know. They mentioned some big evil coming, but I figured that for the same old, same old. Maybe it wasn't."

"Did they mention anything else?" Buffy wanted to know. Willy shook his head, then turned a brilliant shade of green.

"Oh no!" He gulped, as Peter whirled him right side up and dropped back to the floor. As soon as his feet were on solid ground, Willy hightailed it to the men's room.

"Y'know," Peter started as walked away from Willy's place, "I wouldn't have actually been able to stick him to the ceiling."

Buffy frowned. "I thought you have, like, webs and stuff?"

The teenager sighed. "I do, but I left them back in New York."

"You mean it's not natural?" Buffy asked in surprise. "I thought you could do whatever a spider can?"

He shrugged. "Except that, apparently. It'd be nice too. Webbing costs a lot to make, and I'm always so broke."

Buffy nodded understandingly. "I hear that. It's like everybody thinks supplies just grow on trees!"

"I know!" Peter commiserated.

Buffy scowled. "Just last week, Xander bent a sword while we were battling a Torvoc demon. They have stone skin! Who brings a sword to fight Torvocs?" She asked Peter. He just shrugged. "And don't get me started on all the stakes! How hard is it to pull them back out after jabbing it into a vampire's heart?"

Peter put his hands in his pockets, understanding written all over his face.

"I don't really understand what you just said, but I totally get the gist of it! MJ's all about trying to get me to bring her web-slinging even though I can barely afford to fight crime with what I have! And don't get me started on the time that smoking hot russian spy lady stole my web-shooters! God, I wish I was Tony Stark. Or Reed Richards." Peter pouted at the ground.

"Totally." Buffy agreed.

The pair sighed bracingly at the unfairness of it all.

After a few moments, Buffy turned to Peter.

"Wanna go hit stuff?" She asked him.

Peter nodded. "Oh absolutely."

-

Willow, Anya, and Mary-Jane, were back at the Summers house. They were sitting at the dining room table with a bunch of books stacked in front of them. They were looking for any spell that might explain what it was Anya saw. Willow researched using her computer while the others read.

"I can't do this!" MJ threw her book down in frustration. "How can you all sit here and read this stuff?" She picked up one of the other books and pointed to it. "This one's not even in english!"

"Yes, it's sumerian. I know how to read sumerian." Anya stated matter of factually.

MJ deflated a bit. "Oh. Well still... I want to help, but I don't know what I'm looking for." She looked to Willow imploringly. "What do you think I should do?"

Willow thought for a moment.

"You could not be annoying." Anya said under her breath, but loud enough to be heard. Willow glared at her before turning back to MJ.

"Ignore her. Anya's just being Anya. If books aren't your thing, maybe you could try my computer?" Willow passed it over to the younger girl. "Do keyword search for "cloaked illusion spells". If you find something that says something specific about not leaving magical signatures, let me know, okay?"

Mary-Jane accepted the computer and nodded gratefully. Willow smiled before picking up a book and continuing her research.

-

He was on his way to England and he got to sit in first class.

This was an incredibly enjoyable trip. Women serving him, comfy chairs, plenty of peanuts, pillows(!), and a James Bond picture for the in-flight movie. Yes sir, he could definitely get used to this.

Caleb smiled at the pretty flight attendant whore that winked him. Maybe he'd have time to mix pleasure with business.


	11. Chapter 11

Dusk was setting, and the nightlife of Sunnydale was waking up. If any suitable violence was to occur, now, while the vampires and demons and forces of darkness were rubbing the sleep from their eyes, would be the best time for it. Especially since Buffy wanted Peter to be the one issuing the violence. Despite his powers, he's still really new to the whole vampire thing, and Buffy didn't want it to be too difficult for him.

"Is it stupid to wonder why we're in a cemetery?" Peter asked. Case in point.

The slayer nodded. "Given the town you're in, I'd say yeah." She explained to her young companion that they were there in order to take care of a nest of vampires hiding in a tomb at the far end of the cemetery.

"So, uh, how many vampires are there supposed to be, um, nesting?" he asked when they arrived at their destination.

Buffy shrugged. "I dunno. I only just found out about these guys, like, two days ago. There was this used car salesman looking vampire guy named Charlie, right? And he was in the middle of feeding on a couple of high schoolers. I interrupted, and Charlie tried to buy his unlife with some choice info."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, that happens to me sometimes too. Not the vampire feeding, thank god, but I've been offered bribes before. So, did it work?"

"Nah. I just staked him after he told me what he knew." She smiled. "One of the perks of primarily dealing with irredeemable evil is I don't have to feel bad when I lie to them."

"Y'know, lying to crooks isn't to hard on the conscience either. Which, for me, is a huge deal, 'cuz I feel guilty about EVERYTHING," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile.

"Including my arm?" Buffy asked a only little snidely.

He glanced at said arm guilty.

She placed her good arm around his shoulder. "Don't worry, I forgive you. Provided you do all my heavy lifting for me, of course. And all my chores too."

Peter swallowed nervously. Was she serious? Did she actually want him to vacuum her living room or something? Wisely, instead of questioning her, he just nodded his head and agreed to whatever she wanted.

"Yay!" she enthused before letting go and kicking the door of the tomb in.

While vampires all stared at her in shock, Buffy handed Peter a stake and shoved him through the doors.

"Remember," she called. "The stake goes _into_ the heart. Try not to miss, okay?"

She smiled brightly, giving him a thumbs up, then shut him in with the vampires. There were degrees of difficulty after all, and the slayer wanted to see what he was capable of. Also? Funny.

Peter stared at five pairs of angry yellow eyes.

"Roto-Rooter?" he offered lamely, hiding the stake behind his back.

-

Giles cursed as he went through one of the books he "obtained" from the Council. He wasn't angry because of the book. No, that was well worth the risk. The information written on it's ancient pages could very well be what is needed for the coming battle. No, the reason was upset had to do with the fact that stealing the book was the only way he could get to it.

Damn the Council for it's archaic and cold beliefs! Oh, he had no doubt that Travers thought he was doing what was right. He also had no doubt that the decision to cease the search for potential slayers and focus on the ones already under the Council's thumb was an effort to avoid another slayer like Buffy or Faith.

He snorted in derision. As if Buffy wasn't the longest living slayer in history. Of course, she did die a couple of times, but she got better. And it was all due to her maddeningly unorthodox, yet ridiculously productive methods. Buffy had an amazing ability to take what was good about the Council and dismiss the rest. She made great use of her watcher, the training, and when presented with the opportunity, the Council's vast resources. That, in tandem with the aid Buffy's friends brought to the front, was the recipe for one of, if not the most, successful slayers in history.

And that is why Giles was so frustrated. The Council should be working with her, not leaving her out of the loop! She's the bloody Slayer for Christ's sakes! As her watcher, he should _not_ have had to steal these books!

Well, there was precious little he could do about it now. Stealing said books had effectively burned any bridges he had with his, by now, former employers. The only thing left to do was what they wouldn't.

Find potentials and bring them to Sunnydale.

Giles sighed. It was a sad, sick world when bringing young girls to the Hellmouth was the best course of action.

-

"Spike?" The vampire had let out a miserable groan, so Dawn thought he might be coming to. "Spike, wake up!"

He did.

The chains around his hands were far longer than Dawn's and thanks to that, he had better range of movement. Dawn thought maybe if she could get him her hairpin, he might be able to pick his locks.

It was about as far-fetched a hope as they got, but it was better than despair.

Spike rubbed his face blearily and looked around in confusion.

"What the hell am I doing here?" he asked, bewildered. Then he noticed Dawn. "Oh wonderful. I don't suppose big sis is on her way, is she?" Spike frowned, pulling on his chains. "Preferably with a hacksaw."

Dawn's far-fetched hope blossomed into something far more substantial at the rational tone in Spike's voice and demeanor.

"You're sane again?" she asked excitedly.

The vampire seriously considered the question. "For the moment anyway."

Dawn let out a sigh of relief, then explained her plan.

He laughed.

"That has got to be the dumbest idea I've ever heard. Xander could come up with something better!"

The teenaged Key scowled at her fellow prisoner. "You're right. That _is_ stupid. Did you think of something better while you were drooling all over yourself?"

Spike touched a wet spot on his chest with disgust. "Yeah, okay. No need to get shirty, Bit."

She grimaced. "Don't call me that anymore." He may be her best hope of escaping right now, but he still tried to rape her sister.

"Sorry. I won't do it again," he promised in a stoic voice. However, he couldn't quite hide the wounded expression her words caused, and she almost reconsider her demand.

Almost.

"Good."

There was really nothing more to say at that point, and the pair of them got to work on the very important business of escaping.

-

The vampire charged at Peter and the super-hero used his considerable abilities to leap over the demon and cling to the ceiling.

All eyes were on him, and the young man swallowed nervously. He still wasn't used to displays of power without a mask on. Which, he thought, was silly seeing as how his mask got stolen more times than he could count. He even fought maskless on the front lawn of the freaking White House!

One of the vampires started yelling at him, interrupting his inner monologue.

"Hey! Get down from there!"

Peter blinked. "Uh... No," he answered bemusedly. As if he'd listen to him.

"How are you even doing that anyway?" another vampire asked.

"Super powers."

The first vampire rolled his eyes. "Well gee. You don't say."

Peter bristled. That was sarcasm! He was being sarcasted upon! Okay that wasn't actually a word, but dammit! He was the one who was supposed to be blithe and witty! Not that the vampire was witty, but he was definitely blithe!

Peter used his considerable strength to pull off portions of the ceiling he was clinging to and whipped them at the offending vampire. He quickly fell off of the wall and staked the demon before it could regain it's bearings.

"Stew!" another vampire cried out in alarm. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that!" The other three let out shouts of agreement and began advancing towards our hero.

He smirked. "Well if you think I should. I dunno though. He didn't seem like he was worth any monetary reimbursement."

The vampires paused. "Huh?"

Peter sighed. "Yeah, sorry. That wasn't funny at all, was it? Listen..." he asked the vampire what it's name was, "Johnny. I don't know how you guys are used to doing things, but I adhere to a strict standard for all my quips and japes, and that one just wasn't up to snuff."

The vampires all stared at Peter like he was crazy.

"I don't suppose we could just pretend that first thing I said didn't happen, could we?"

"Kid, I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Johnny replied.

Peter nodded, then roundhouse kicked him in the face. Johnny slammed into the wall and did not get back up. Before the remaining vamps could react, Peter grabbed one by the neck, and leapt back up to the ceiling. He rammed the vampire, head first, into the ceiling and then pushed off, and rammed him into the ground.

As the other two vamps charged, Peter jumped over them, pushing their heads together at the same time.

"See now," Peter said after he landed. "That's what we call a classic. Do you know how many times I've pulled that on bozos like you?"

Behind him, Johnny got back to his feet and, silently, crept up to Peter. He reached out for the lad's neck, but before he made contact, Peter ducked down and used the top of his head to break Johnny's jaw. Before the vampire could fall down again, Peter took him by the shirt, and used him to hit the other two vampires. Twice.

The vampire that got slammed into the ground began stirring. So he hit him with Johnny too.

Peter used his spider-strength to knock Johnny out, and did the same for the guy on the ground. He then turned his attentions to the other two.

"Do you see how this is going to work?" Peter asked. "You try and hit me, then I beat you silly. Not the most original game plan, I know. But then I'm not exactly running on all cylinders today." He looked around. "Have either of you see my stake?"

Outside the tomb, Buffy rolled her eyes.

Peter saw a wooden tool chest. "Never mind." He went up to it and kicked it in, causing it's contents to spill out.

The young man stared down at the floor in horror, then the world went white.

-

More and more, Mary-Jane began to feel like she was in her element. And that scared her. It felt normal, researching cloaking spells and demons. What did that mean? Was it because she was a potential slayer? Probably.

She rubbed her head in frustration. Her mother was just murdered for God's sake! She should be inconsolable or something, not calmly looking stuff up on the net! It was like she was betraying her mom and Aunt May.

MJ shook her head, trying to clear out these unhappy thoughts, and started another search. As she focused on the screen, her vision got blurrier, and blurrier and she remembered that her glasses were at home. She didn't need them nearly as much as Peter used to, only for light reading, so she rarely ever wore them. Her mom was holding on to them for her. They were in her purse.

Her mother had an arrow in her neck!

Again, she shook her head, but the image of arterial blood spraying through the air wouldn't leave. And Aunt May's face as she felt the axe go through her back, was seared into her mind.

It was weird. She could almost feel them standing behind her, watching, as she acted like nothing was wrong.

Mary-Jane glanced over her shoulder. There was nothing there.

Tiredly, she rubbed her eyes. It was then that she realized she had been crying.

The heartsick young girl wiped her tear soaked hands on her pants and refocused her attentions back on the computer screen before her.

Then she screamed.

If it weren't for Xander being missing, Willow might've noticed the younger redhead's increasingly distraught state. As it was, her first clue was Mary-Jane's blood curdling shriek.

Willow ran up to the girl. "What's wrong?" she demanded worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Gee Willow," she muttered. "I guess the hysterical shouting wasn't enough of an indication for you." The former vengeance demon took MJ by the shoulders, then slapped her across the face.

Willow was aghast. "Hey!"

Anya ignored her. "Stop that," she told Mary-Jane sternly. "If something's the matter, then tell us. But yelling about it isn't going to do any good. Plus it's annoying."

The girl looked at Anya with eyes clouded by fear and shock.

"Thuh-the monitor..." was all she could get out, and she pointed to it.

Willow and Anya both turned to look at it, but didn't see anything wrong.

"I don't have time for crazy," Anya said not unkindly. "My ex-fiance, whom I hate yet still love, is missing. This isn't helping me find him. What did you see exactly."

Mary looked up into Anya's eyes. "It was my mother," She said softly. "I saw my mother on the screen."

"Like a picture?" Willow asked.

MJ's breathing became more ragged, and the stunned calm that Anya's slap brought about slowly gave way to horror and confusion.

"No. It was her reflection." She turned her tear streaked face to Willow for answers. "Why? Why did I see her? Is she mad at me? Oh God, she hates me!" Mary-Jane said wretchedly.

Willow's heart was breaking for this poor girl. "Oh no sweetie," she said, pulling her into a hug. "Why would she hate you?"

"Because it's my fault she's dead," the potential whispered brokenly.

"You're being an idiot." Anya admonished. Willow gave her a look of complete disgust. Mary-Jane showed no outward sign of having heard her. "Bringers killed your mother, right?"

"Anya..." Willow said warningly, but the other woman paid her no heed.

"The fact that evil eyeless demons want to kill you isn't your fault. It's theirs."

Mary-Jane gave Anya a look of pure despair. "They killed her to get to me!"

"Yes they did. But I just told you it wasn't your fault." She sighed. "Are you retarded or something? Pay attention."

That was it. Not only was it rude to call someone retarded, it wasn't politically correct either. Willow protested on behalf of the weeping girl in her arms. But again, Anya just ignored her.

"Listen to me now," she said pulling Mary-Jane away from Willow. "Your mother dying is unfortunate, but that had nothing to do with you."

Mary-Jane opened her mouth to say something, but Anya shushed her. "No interrupting! It's rude. You're a potential, right? Right. And the Bringers want to kill potentials, right? Right. Did you want to be a potential? No, of course not. Who in their right mind would want the potential to be chosen to fight for their life on a nightly basis while the fate of the world hangs in the balance? No one, that's who."

Anya stared directly into Mary-Jane's green eyes. "The only ones who are to blame for your mother's death are the ones that killed her. To think otherwise is asking for ridicule and therapy. Do you understand?"

Mary-Jane didn't respond. Anya sighed again.

"Do you love your boyfriend?" she asked, changing tactics.

The girl blinked in surprise at the question, but she did answer it. "I do."

Anya smiled happily. "Good for you! Now, how is he dealing with all this?"

MJ thought for a bit. "He... he's have a big freak out." She glanced at Willow, remembering what Peter almost did to her. "He's barely keeping it all together."

"But he is, right?" Mary nodded. "And why do you suppose that is?" The girl opened her mouth to respond, but Anya continued on without waiting. "You. I guarantee, without you, he'd be a blubbering, simpering, pile of male. But you _are_ here, and because of that, he's out with Buffy doing what he can to find my male pile. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Mary-Jane hugged herself, nodding. "I need to be strong for Peter."

"That's right. Because if you don't, he'll end up sitting in front of the TV all summer, crying about how he missed the old days, while the rest of your friends are getting on with their lives."

Both Willow and Mary-Jane gave her an odd look. Anya was far to used to it to care.

"You need to take care of him, because he's too stupid to do it himself."

Mary-Jane wiped the tears from her face and stared at the computer monitor. "But what about what I saw?"

Anya shrugged. "You're either crazy, or something's messing with you. Congratulations."

Willow placed a comforting arm around the younger girl. "If it makes you feel any better, something's been messing with everybody."

MJ looked up at the older redhead. "Yeah, that doesn't help."


	12. Chapter 12

Steve Rogers, the legendary Captain America, stormed into Fury's office. The look on his face told the colonel that this wasn't going to be a fun visit.

"Can I help you, Steve?"

The super-soldier slammed his palms on the desk and leveled a glare that could convince anybody who wasn't head of S.H.I.E.L.D. to confess his or her greatest secrets.

"D'you mind telling me what exactly you're doin' with the Parker kid?" Fury raised an eyebrow in response, but didn't say anything. Rogers snorted humorlessly and crossed his arms. "I'll rephrase the question. What's going on with Parker?"

Fury sighed and held out a folder. "It isn't pretty," he warned.

Wordlessly, Rogers picked up the report and read through it. Then, just as silently, placed it back down upon the desk. He sat. His expression was withdrawn.

"Nicholes bit off his own tongue?" Rogers asked after a moment.

Fury shrugged, cool as you can be. "Yeah, but we were able to re-attach it."

"We need to find him," the blond stated firmly. Too many men and women go rogue once they get powers. It takes a lot of guts to be one of the ones that doesn't. And regardless of all the crap the media, especially that grade A ass, Jameson, puts him through, Parker's hasn't. He's a good soldier. And a good American.

"Don't worry Captain. We will," Fury promised. After all... The Ultimates don't leave one of their own out it the cold. Not if they could help it.

Peter's eyes adjusted to the darkness. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his head.

"Ow. What happened?" he asked, sitting up. The groggy young hero glanced around looking for something to indicate his location. There was nothing. Just an all encompassing blackness. He swallowed nervously. "Why can't I ever open my eyes and find myself in a land of candy and sunshine?"

With a groan Peter got to his feet and checked his pockets to see what he still had on him. Well, there was his wallet. Which is nice, but kinda useless. Unless of course the busses run through here. He seriously doubted it though. There wasn't a bus stop in sight.

Peter frowned. Wasn't he just fighting a bunch of vampires a second ago? How did he end up in a voidesque place making jokes about public transit? This thought ignited a furious flurry of worrying questions: What happened? Where was he? What happened to Buffy? Is she dead? He looked around in the blackness again. Was he dead? Oh god! Who would protect MJ? What's gonna happen to her? If Buffy's dead, does that mean she's gonna be the next Slayer?

He began to hyperventilate.

After a couple of minutes of that, something occurred to him. Dead people probably don't have panic attacks. Did this mean he wasn't dead?

"Of course you're not, sweetie," a familiar voice reassured.

Peter whirled around to face it.

There she stood, looking as hardy and hale as ever. No, she looked better! Her cheeks were a rosy red. Her silver hair seemed to shine like stars against the inky backdrop around her. She looked strong again. Like she was before Uncle Ben died.

She smiled radiantly, with a loving glint in her warm blue eyes.

"Hello Peter."

He stared at her, absolutely stunned. "Aunt... Aunt May?"

Her smile became somewhat sarcastic. (But in that honest and sincere way she had.)

"In the flesh. Or a reasonable facsimile anyway."

Peter reached out to her with a trembling hand. She clasped it into her own.

"Oh Peter," she exclaimed sadly. "I'm so sorry for leaving you." She pulled the boy into her arms and held him tightly.

He could feel it building. All the pain and anguish and horror and terror of the past couple of days came flooding up in a torrent of wracking sobs. Through it all, Aunt May stroked his hair gently and whispered soothing words.

Once he'd calmed down some, he asked again if he was dead.

She pulled back and caressed his tear stained face. "If you were dead, do you think you'd be this filthy?" Peter looked down at what he was wearing. He was still in the same clothes from when all this began. Aunt May began fussing over him. She smoothed out his wrinkles and frowned ruefully at any stains or holes. Peter had to duck away when she licked her hand and started patting down his hair.

"EW! Aunt May! You know I hate it when you do that!"

She shrugged. "I can't help myself." Her expression was wistful. "I just loved mothering you."

After a couple of minutes of awkward (for Peter, anyway) silence, he spoke up. "What's going on? If I'm not dead, then what am I doing here?"

The silver haired woman held her arms out, gesturing to the great expansive blackness that surrounded them both.

"Think of this like a halfway house," she began. "Here, spirits of the newly dead," she pointed to herself. "Can interact with the spirits of the... Of the almost dead." May paused to let that statement sink in a little.

Peter looked at her blankly. He blinked. Twice.

"Oh." He blinked some more. "WHAT?"

She placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "You were caught in an explosion, sweetie." Peter gaped at her. "A big one too." More gapping. "In fact, the only reason you're still alive is because of your spider-powers."

Peter wished there was a chair so that he could sit. Sitting would be good. Apparently, whoever was in charge of things thought that was a good idea too. A chair suddenly appeared directly behind the boy, causing the normally agile individual to stumble back into it.

He stared at the chair dumbly. Aunt May rolled her eyes, then snapped her fingers, regaining Peter's attention.

He stared at her dumbly.

She stared back.

He began to squirm, uncomfortable.

She arched an eyebrow.

Peter coughed. "So... You know about the... uh..." He made some strange hand motions meant to represent web-slinging, complete with thwippy sounds.

"Stop that. You look ridiculous," she admonished.

"Sorry."

May smiled. "Don't worry about it. And yes. I do know about the..." she imitated Peter's pantomime. The kid couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"How long have you known?" He was a little indignant about all this. If she knew he was Spider-man, then why did he have to go through all the trouble of trying to keep it from her?

She glanced at an imaginary wrist watch. "Pretty much since I died."

There was no real way to respond to that. So he didn't. Deciding, instead, to go back to the other bit of interesting news.

"I'm nearly dead?"

Aunt May nodded. "That pretty much sums it up," she said cheerfully.

Peter gave her a dubious expression. "You don't seem too worried."

She smiled. "That's because you're not going to die." May paused for a moment, considering. "Well, not right now anyway."

Peter scratched his head. "Um... That's... good?" It was, May agreed. "Okay. But how do you know that?"

She smiled and gave the boy an enigmatic grin. It was the same one he always got whenever he asked about stuff he'd only understand when he got older. Except this time he didn't roll his eyes and go look it up on the internet.

"You're going to wake up soon, sweetie," May told him solemnly. "Which means we don't have much time left." That got his full attention. "Listen to me Peter. This is going to be the most important thing I have _ever _said to you

In the distance, Peter could hear voices. They were faint, but getting stronger and closer very quickly. He reached out to her, not wanting them to be separated again, but froze when he heard her final message.

"If you want Mary-Jane to live, don't trust Buffy Summers."

Two hours ago.

One minute, Buffy was watching the kid fight some vamps. The next, she was flying through the air and headfirst into a headstone.

One hour, forty-two minutes ago.

She staggered over to the rubble that was once the vampires' lair. She began moving debris, looking for her young ally. Pain shot up and down her wounded arm, but the Slayer ignored it.

Finally, she was able to dig him out. Peter was in bad shape, but not as bad as she would've thought. Still, he was hurt way more than she knew how to deal with.

Buffy gently picked the boy up and carried him away.

Dawn and Spike were lost. It was like the caves were restructuring themselves, just to make sure the escaping duo couldn't leave.

They turned a corner and found yet another dead-end.

It was all the ensouled vampire could do not to swear. Loudly, and with great vigor and proficiency. Hell, it was a struggle just to keep from loosing his bloody mind. Literally!

Spike stilled. He motioned for Dawn to be quiet. Someone was coming towards them! Flattening himself and Dawn against the wall, Spike waited. Either to strike, or for that feeling of relief one gets after a close call. However, he was completely unprepared for who he saw strolling past them in the adjoining corridor.

Dawn grinned. He must be escaping too, she thought excitedly. Good, because she was worried that they wouldn't find him. But before she could get his attention, Spike grabbed her and covered her mouth.

"Sorry, Bit. Dawn. But that would've been a very bad idea." The vampire let her go and Dawn backed away from him skittishly. He must be going insane again.

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh come on!" he whispered. "I thought you were supposed to be smart, Dawn." She didn't reply. He sighed. "How do you think you got here? And why do you think he's just wandering around? It's like he's got free reign."

The implication hit her like a ton of bricks. She shook her head in denial. "No. We...we got attacked from behind..."

Spike snorted. "Well, you got it half right anyway."

Dawn shook her head again. Tears threatening to spill at any moment. It wasn't true! He would never hurt her. He couldn't! Not unless he was a... a..

"No!" she denied again, louder this time. "I don't believe you!"

"Quiet down," Spike hissed. "You want the entire place to know we're escaping?"

Someone behind them chuckled.

"Sorry Rerun," Xander said casually. "But I think it's a little late for that." He clapped his hands together sharply. "Guards? Oh guards? Come hither. We have escapees."

Dawn's legs gave out as she watched Bringers line up next to the one guy on this horrible planet that she trusted implicitly.

Beside her, Spike roared his defiance and charged forward. Dawn didn't react. Not even when her protector was brought down. Hard. She just stared into Xander's cold brown eyes.

He winked.

Caleb relaxed in the unusually warm English weather. He was at an outdoor cafe, sipping a cup of excellent tea, and enjoying the satisfaction of a job well done.

Soon enough, those self-righteous old men will feel Her fiery judgement.

The waitress placed the bill in front of him. As well as her phone number. Caleb gazed at her appraisingly. She blushed prettily when their eyes met.

Why not, he thought to himself. He had a couple of days until the big event.

The handsome foreigner got up and charmed the heck out of the waitress with his exotic accent and sweet smile.

As soon as she saw the state her boyfriend was in, Mary-Jane completely lost it. While it was true her presence was helping Peter deal with everything, so too was she comforted by him. Seeing her incredibly strong super-hero of a boyfriend so beaten and burned was just too much for the girl.

Anya had to physically restrain MJ to keep her from following Willow and Buffy as they brought Peter upstairs to be treated. She tried reasoning with her. That didn't work. She tried threatening her. That didn't work. And since she doesn't know how to do that neck pinch thing, like the pointy eared hussy from TV Xander's always undressing with his eyes, Anya decided to do the next best thing.

About half an hour later, Willow and Buffy were just finishing the final touches on Peter's bandages.

"Okay," Willow said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. "I think he's gonna be okay." Her face scrunched worriedly. "I did say, "think", right? 'Cuz that implies a certain uncertainty regarding how certain I am that he's gonna be okay. I'm not a doctor. Why didn't we get a doctor?"

Buffy sighed. "Couldn't risk it."

Willow's eyes widened. "Risk? There's risk? What risk?" She paused. "Besides the obvious, I mean."

"He's Spider-Man, remember?" The redhead nodded. "If we bring the kid in to a hospital, they're gonna wanna do tests and stuff."

"Right!" Willow exclaimed, getting it. "And then, WOOSH! See ya secret identity!" She looked pretty pleased with Buffy's reasoning, but frowned when another worry occurred to her. "But what if he's got internal injuries or something? I don't know about you, Buffy, but I can't fix that."

In response, the Slayer pulled at on of the first bandages they put on him.

"Hey! What're you... Oh. That's interesting." The wound seemed to be healing at an accelerated pace. It might even be faster than Slayer Healing! There was still a long way to go until it was fully healed, of course. But it was definitely looking better than it did when Buffy first brought him home.

Buffy replaced the bandage and rubbed her face tiredly. She went and cleaned herself off in the bathroom then told Willow she was heading downstairs to check up on things there.

Anya was sitting on the lazyboy watching TV. Mary-Jane was sprawled out on the couch, apparently fast asleep.

Buffy was impressed. "I didn't think she'd ever calm down enough to sleep."

"She didn't," Anya corrected without looking away from the sweaty man with the wash board abs on screen. "I put her in a choke hold."

Unsure of whether to laugh or cry, Buffy opted to just go back upstairs instead. She paused, frowning at Dawn's darkened bedroom. It was getting late, she should be home by now. Or at least have checked in with someone. Buffy walked back into her room and asked Willow when was the last time she saw Dawn. Willow replied with sometime that morning.

Buffy pulled out her cellphone and called her sister. Her face tightened when Dawn's cheery voicemail message answered. She snapped the phone shut and headed to the closet.

The Slayer pulled on a clean shirt. Then she walked over to the weapons chest Xander made for her and pulled out her best sword.

Willow's eyes followed the weapon as Buffy gave it a few practice swings.

"What's going on?" she asked of her friend. "Is something the matter with Dawnie?"

"She's not answering her cellphone." Just for a moment, the incredible worry she felt for Xander, and now Dawn, bled through Buffy's warrior demeanor. But just for a moment.

"Peter said this was the First. I don't know if that's true or not, but I don't care. It messed with my family and it's gonna stop. Then it's gonna pay," the Slayer promised. "Keep an eye on things here, Will."

About ten minutes after Buffy left, the phone rang. Willow rushed to answer it. "Dawnie?"

"Uh, no. It's just me," a puzzled british voice answered.

"Oh, hi Giles."

"Is something the matter with Dawn?" he asked, hearing the disappointment in Willow's voice.

And so Willow told Giles everything. From her loss of control, to Spike and Xander's disappearance, to Dawn's possible disappearance, and that Spider-Man is now lying unconscious on Buffy's bed.

"I'm sorry. I thought for a moment that you said Spider-Man was in Buffy's bed," Giles said weakly.

Willow smiled ruefully. "I did."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Giles. I'm sure that's what I said."

He sighed frustratingly. "No, Willow. I meant were you sure this is truly Spider-Man."

"Oh." Well that was embarrassing. She considered the question. "I think I am. He says he got bit by a radioactive spider. Or maybe it was a genetically altered spider? Anyway, that was after I saw him stick to a ceiling. Ooh! And I know he's super strong 'cuz he broke Buffy's arm," she concluded confidently.

Giles polished his glasses. "He broke her arm?"

"Yeah. But he didn't mean it! He's not that kinda guy! Buffy was only trying to keep him from... from..." Willow winced at how bad this was gonna sound. "Killing me?"

"Ah. Yes well. That would make sense." Where did he leave the scotch?

"It wasn't his fault though," the witch defended earnestly. "He was just scared. He's sorta the one I lost control on."

"I see."

"I'm sorry Giles," she gushed. "But... But I didn't hurt anyone. I managed to stop myself before I could."

"I'm glad," Giles told her sincerely. Now, why is..." And he could not believe he was about to ask this question. "Why is Spider-Man unconscious?"

"He got blown up."

"Of course he did. And the potential slayer?"

"She's fine."

At least that's something, Giles thought. "What of the boy that accompanied her?"

"Oh! Didn't I tell you?"

"I'm afraid not," he admitted with no small amount of dread.

"As it turns out, he's Spider-Man."

"Good Lord! Are you serious?"

Willow nodded. "Yep."

"You said he couldn't have been older than sixteen!"

"Actually, I think it's more like he's fifteen."

Giles sighed. He recalled a recent news report depicting Spider-Man engaged in a furious and deadly battle on the streets of New York against the demonic looking creature American journalists have dubbed, "The Green Goblin", and at least four other similarly deviant foes.

Why is it young people are always the ones to bear the harshest burdens, he wondered.

"And how is he doing?" Giles asked.

Willow turned to check up in Peter and promptly dropped the phone.

"Willow? Willow, what is it?" Giles' voice sounded tinny and small coming from the receiver. His concern however, was plain for all to hear.

She picked up the phone and practically screamed into it.

"Giles, he's gone!"

Peter leapt from the second story window while Willow was having her blabfest. He grunted in pain upon landing. Obviously he still had more healing to do.

Duh! He almost died! In an explosion even!

Buffy probably set him up, he thought bitterly. That's why she sent him into the crypt alone. He was such an idiot! She's probably not even the Slayer! The bitch.

He needed to get Mary out of there pronto. Before something happens to her too.

Peter peered into the Summers' living room window. Anya was lustfully staring at an Ab-roller infomercial. He narrowed his eyes dangerously. And there was MJ, unconscious on the couch.

Will had just hung up the phone, after promising Giles to keep him in the loop, when she heard the front door slam open. Anya's cry of surprise was cut off abruptly.

"Anya!"

The redheaded woman ran down the stairs, worry etched all over her face. Was it The First? Or It's minions? It might even be something else entirely! What if it was some creepy weird demon intent upon getting revenge on a certain newly human ex-vengeance demon?

Heck, it might even be burglars.

Her brain babble ceased when she saw Anya on the floor bleeding. Willow checked her over. She sighed in relief. The cut was a bit bloody, but it wasn't deep.

Willow looked around for Mary-Jane. There was no sign of her.

It just keeps coming, doesn't it, she thought bitterly while cleaning her friend up.


	13. Chapter 13

Peter hugged Mary-Jane to his chest tightly as he used his amazing spider-strength and agility to jump away from Buffy's house.

He was an idiot! A sucker! A dim-witted dodo with dumb-ass hot wired into his genetic makeup! It was like, instead of a genetically altered spider, he got bit by the retardo-bug!

God! Such an idiot.

Buffy Summers was working for those Bringer guys! Why else would she set him up like that?

So not a Slayer...

He leapt onto the top of a movie theater and decided to rest there for a while. He looked around, taking stock of their surroundings. It looked like he'd brought them to downtown Sunnydale.

Gently, Peter laid Mary-Jane on the roof and brushed a hair out of her sleeping face. He smiled a little, looking down at her. Watching her sleep was one of his favorite things to do.

His smile transformed into something ugly. But Mary-Jane wasn't asleep, was she? No she wasn't. They knocked her unconscious.

Knocked her. Unconscious.

His girlfriend.

The only family he has left alive.

He should go back. Show those jackasses what the proportional strength of a spider meant!

Spider-Man could rend metal asunder, and Peter Parker could easily do the same to Buffy Summers and her merry band of bad guys.

He took a half of a step before deflating.

And if he went off and did what he so wanted to do, where would that leave Mary-Jane? All alone on the roof of a building in downtown Sunnydale, that's where. The Bringers could show up at anytime and try to kill her again.

They have to keep moving. Where? Who the hell knows.

Peter picked up the unconscious redhead and leapt away, doing his best to convince himself it was the wind that made his eyes water.

-

"What are we gonna do, Giles?" Willow wailed into the phone. As soon as she patched Anya up, the redhead called her mentor back and told him what was going on.

Giles considered the situation. It was odd, he decided, that the young man had taken off like as he did. He was rather under the impression that Peter's trust, as hesitant and reluctant he might've been to give it, has already been gained. It also made little sense to remove the potential slayer from the actual Slayer's protection. No, if Willow is to be believed, then it appears as though Peter was caught in an explosion, woke up some time later, attacked Anya, and took the potential. All for no discernible reason.

"Giles?"

Willow's concerned voice stirred him from his thoughts. He had been silent for quite a few moments.

"Willow, you say Anya has seen a vision of Xander?"

"...Yes," she replied hesitantly.

"And this girl, the potential, she has also seen a vision?"

"Well, it was more like a creepy reflection on a computer screen. Less flamey too." Willow frowned, not liking the implications. " So I was right?"

"About what?"

Willow's frown deepened into a scowl. "About somebody messing with us."

"It would appear so. And now they've gotten to Peter. Find him, Willow. Find him now, and convince him of your sincerity."

"Don't worry, Giles, I will."

Willow hung up and dialed Buffy.

Across the Pond, the Watcher replaced his phone upon the receiver with a mirthless chuckle.

"Don't worry, she says. Silly girl... As if I could help it."

-

Buffy didn't want to answer her cellphone. Buffy wanted to look for her sister uninterrupted. But Buffy was a responsible Slayer and answering the stupid thing unfortunately fell under responsibility's jurisdiction. After about ten seconds of Willow explaining what was going on, Buffy decided she wished she had ignore her phone after all.

Sighing, she told Willow that Dawn had to take priority for the moment, but she and Anya should do a locator spell and call again with the results. Buffy hung up and headed to the last place she absolutely knew Dawn had been.

Sunnydale High.

The Hellmouth.

The Slayer paused before going in, just for a moment, to consider her old alma mater.

All the clues to Dawn's whereabouts are inside that awful place of learning, and nothing will stop the Slayer from finding them. Buffy walked through the front doors the school that had dominated her life for so many years with no further hesitation.

-

It was the height of stupidity, in Anya's very vocal opinion, to go looking for the little super-powered miscreant. He clearly didn't want their help, she pointed out. If he did, then he wouldn't have caused Anya to bleed out her own blood!

"Which brings us to the very logical assumption that a search-and-rescue will only turn into a search-and-get-our-asses-kicked-for-bothering once we find the hormonal freak!"

Willow glared at her friend, the twice former vengeance demon, and wondered, not for the first or last time, what the hell Xander ever saw in her.

"He's scared, Anya. I told you what Giles said," the witch reminded her, putting together the locater spell. "Hand me that crystal, would you?"

Anya rolled her eyes, complying. "Yeah, yeah. So what? We already knew we were being messed with. It still doesn't give him the right to manhandle me."

Accepting the crystal, Willow continued her lecture. "They're just kids, with no real idea about the supernatural. And with Buffy looking for Dawn, we're all the backup they have." She gave Anya a look that would allow no argument. "They need our help and they're gonna get it."

-

Dawn woke up in chains for the second time in as many days. Xander smirked at her, face in full on vampire mode.

"Hey, good lookin', what's cookin'?"

She stared at his hideous yellow eyes, shining with malevolent mirth. It was, she decided, the worst thing she's ever seen in her life. Dawn weeped, but her face was schooled into an expression of the utmost disgust. She mourned for her friend, but she would freak out later. Focusing on staying alive long enough for Buffy to rescue her was the priority.

Vampire Xander made the sad noise. "Aw, Dawnster, why so gloomy?" He moved close and wiped a tear from Dawn's cheek. "You don't have to be so sad, honey." His expression brightened. "I got good news! You get to stay alive! ... Well long enough for Buffy to come rescue you anyway." Did he just read her mind? He laughed at her obvious confusion. "C'mon, Dawnie, you're acting like I don't know you well enough to know what you're thinking. But don't worry. We aren't actually using you as bait this time." Xander held his right hand up. "Scout's Honor."

"Why..." Dawn's voice cracked. She started again, stronger this time. "Why the hell else would you kidnap me?"

He leaned in close. Real close. "Maybe, my pretty little jailbait, I just wanted some time with you?" Then he forced her into a kiss.

"Xander," Buffy's voice rang out from the entrance to Dawn's cell. "What did I say about that?"

Xander pulled back and shrugged apologetically."Sorry, Buff, I couldn't help myself. But, hey, at least I didn't taste, right?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She brightened when she caught sight of Dawn. "Yay! I'm so proud of you, Dawn. I honestly never expected you to get Spike cogent enough to go all Frank Morris on us. Good job."

If Dawn's hatred and rage could melt people, the ones standing in front of her would be puddles of bubbling grease right now.

Buffy giggled. "Aw lookit the little pouty-face."

"What are you," Dawn demanded venomously, still not believing for a second that the apparition before her was her sister.

"I'm Buffy. Didn't we go over this already?" She turned to Xander. "Do I look like a Buffy?"

He gave her a lusty once over. "I'd say that's a definite oh yeah."

She sauntered sexily over to him. "Do I smell like a Buffy?"

Xander smirked, but didn't reply.

Buffy leaned in to him, just centimeters away from his lips. "Do I taste like a Buffy?"

At that, Xander sneered. "I wouldn't know, would I?"

The smile on Buffy's face was full of sadistic satisfaction that she'd gotten under his skin. "Well maybe if you're good, you'll find out."

He snorted. "Not likely." Xander straightened and headed for the exit. "I think I'll leave you two alone for some family time. I'm gonna go get a bite of someone to eat."

Buffy waved cheerfully at him before returning her attentions to Dawn. "Hey, sis, wanna hear my theory on why Dad left?"

-

It was literally the only place he could think of to go. He didn't know where anything was in this godforsaken town. Except, that is, the apartment of the guy Anya was freaking out over. It was really, really, stupid to come here. It may as well be enemy territory! General Fury would kick his little spider ass if he knew Peter was taking such a risk. But it wasn't like he could go into a hotel or anything. He didn't have enough money for that, and there really was no protection against the Bringers.

Here, at least, Peter was able to scrounge up a sword. Ooh, and a crossbow! Cooool.

He took an arrow and loaded the weapon up. Seconds later, the spectacular former Spider-Man fell backwards on his ass as the arrow narrowly missed his face and imbedded itself in the ceiling.

Peter looked up at it. "Note to self," he muttered, setting the crossbow down. "Don't touch this."

Nearby, laying on the sofa, Mary-Jane let out a little moan. Peter sat down next to her and gently stroked her hair.

-

"Mary-Jane Watson? You have been charged with defilement of duty. How do you plead?" Buffy the Judge loomed over her, silently demanding an answer.

Mary-Jane glanced back at her advocate, panicked. Willow Rosenberg shrugged uselessly.

Anya let out a shrill laugh. "Of course there's nothing for her to say. Someone's messing with her! It's only right to remain silent! Anything she says can and will be used against her!"

Buffy the Judge shook her head solemly. "Then I guess I have no choice but to convict you." The gavel thundered down upon the Judge's Desk. "I hereby bestow upon you the rank of Slayer. And everything that goes with it."

Dawn, in a slutty game show girl's outfit, pulled back the curtain while an omnipresent announcer began telling her what she's won as the one girl in all the world.

"You've received the strength and skills to hunt the Vampires, demons, and the forces of ...EVIL!"

"BUT THAT'S NOT ALL," the audience roared.

"No it's not, audience. That's not all by a long shot. Our newest One Girl has also been given the whole weight of the world on her shoulders!" The omnipresent announcer chuckled. "Boy, it sure is a good thing she's got all that strength now."

The audience chuckled appreciatively.

Mary-Jane tried to tell them that she didn't want it, but nobody was paying attention to her. She shouted it at the top of her lungs, but everybody was busy watching Buffy wow the audience with a song and dance routine about slaying demons while at the same time giving a lecture on how vampires are cute, but not good for the nookie. Well, not emotionally good.

It was when Mary-Jane yelled that someone else should be the Slayer instead of her -because Buffy gets killed really soon they're gonna need a new Slayer- that the whole world, which was on it's way to her shoulders, stopped to stare at her.

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked her, stunned.

"I... I don't want to be a Slayer."

Willow looked at her with absolute disgust. "But you'll make someone else go through it?" She pointed to a yellow man in a funny uniform who was sitting at a console. "Mr. Data, on screen!"

The view screen showed a young girl, no older than thirteen, playing baseball with her friends. She was laughing and bashfully flirting with a cute boy. She was blushing scarlet. He was sitting so close to her! Suddenly, out of nowhere, the boy gave the girl a kiss on the cheek, a mighty blush forming on his own face, before stammering something about practice and rushing off to get at bat. The girl stared at him with a shocked, but ridiculously happy, smile.

The smile faded as a man in a suit stopped in front of her, blocking the game from sight.

The screen changed to depict the girl as she looked down at a bent piece of metal in her hands. Tears rolled down her face as she finally understood how she would no longer be able sit with cute boys and play baseball. The man in the suit looked on with a detached expression.

The screen changed to depict the girl as she screamed in terror. A vampire jumped out from the grave, his large frame dramatically dwarfing her own. The girl gripped a stake and gamely attacked. The man in the suit looked on with a detached expression.

The screen changed to depict the girl as she was being brutally beaten by a gang of demons. The weakest one lifted a fist the size of a watermelon that practically quivered with the anticipation of bloodying her further. The girl fought back bravely; hands steady, eyes hard as steel. The man in the suit looked on with a detached expression.

More demons arrived the Slayer's schooled demeanor vanished, replaced by a little girl that knew she was going to die.

The screen terminated.

Everything was dark, save for the light that shined down on a sobbing Mary-Jane.

Buffy walked out of the darkness and embraced the girl.

"It sucks, I know. I've lived through it all myself." She pulled back and gave Mary-Jane an empathic expression. "Do you know why you saw that?" She shook her head. "It's because you needed to." Buffy brushed a tear away from Mary-Jane's cheek. "It's so that you'll understand."

Slowly the darkness faded and all around them stood Buffy's family. Dawn, Xander, Willow, and more faces than she didn't recognize, all surrounded them. It was then that she realized how safe she felt.

"They protect me, so what may happen to her," Buffy held her hand out, and from the crowd came the baseball player. She took Buffy's hand and gave it a squeeze. Buffy smiled warmly at her. "...won't happen to me."

The baseball player spoke. "I would die only because I don't have what Buffy has. What you have."

Mary-Jane couldn't even begin to comprehend what it might be they're talking about. "What do I...?"

"Duh," a familiar voice said from beside her. "You have people who can actually help you."

"...Peter!" Mary-Jane latched onto her boyfriend with a desperate embrace.

"It will be all right, MJ," he told her softly. "Even if you do get Called, I'll always be there to protect you."

Xander piped up. "Yeah, and if he can't be, we," he gestured to the Scoobies, "sure as heck won't leave you hanging."

Willow and Dawn both nodded enthusiastically. Anya shrugged and said, "Yeah, whatever."

Buffy pouted. "You're lucky you've got Peter. I wish I had somebody that can punch the Hulk on my team."

"It was more like I hit him with a car," Peter corrected in a cluelessly casual manner. Buffy's eyes bugged out in amazement. "It, uh, it didn't actually hurt him." Everybody stared, impressed regardless of his modesty. "Anyway," he said to his girlfriend. "It's not as if you've actually been Called yet."

"Yeah, totally, "Buffy agreed, getting back on track. "All you have to do to keep from becoming a Slayer is save my life! How easy is that?"

And then Mary-Jane woke up.

The first thing she noticed was that she wasn't at the Summer's home any longer. She began to panic, but calmed when she saw Peter leaning against the armrest in a deep, deep sleep.

Mary-Jane took stock of their surroundings and it didn't take her long to figure out where they were. But why were they there, and where was Buffy?

Buffy...

...was going to die!

She reached over to wake Peter, but hesitated. Instead, she moved him to a more comfortable postition. The guy hasn't had a chance to sleep in forever, unconsciousness due to explosions not withstanding, and he could really use the rest.

The Potential silently found a book Xander kept around with all his friend's numbers on it and dialed Buffy's house.

Willow was about to start the incantation when the phone rang. She debated whether or not to ignore it, but decided that it might be important. Willow picked up the phone and was promptly bombarded by a whispered babbling.

"Mary-Jane?" she asked uncertainly. It could be her, but...

Before the witch had a chance to even finish her thought, Anya leapt from her spot on the floor and snatched the phone. "What happened to your crazy boyfriend?"

Mary-Jane stuttered whilst attempting to think of a reply . Anya, ever the example of patience, brushed it aside and demanded to know where they were.

Anya's eyebrow twitched and, wordlessly, she handed the phone back to a very offended Willow. With a harumph of indignation, the redhead resumed the questioning, needless to say, in a far more soothing manner.

"Where are you?" she asked, having not heard the answer. "Oh. You're at Xander's apartment. That's good. Why?" The younger girl had no answer, save that she hoped Willow would know. "Sorry, sweetie, I have no idea. The last time we saw you, you were..." Willow glanced at Anya, remembering how she quieted Mary-Jane down. "... You fell asleep." She was about to tell her what happened with Peter, but thought it might be a bad idea. Instead she told Mary-Jane to arm herself. She really should wake her boyfriend up and give him a couple of weapons too. Willow also suggested that she not say Willow on her way.

"Why?" Mary-Jane asked, to which Willow had no response. "Why are we here?" the she asked directly. "Why aren't we still at your place?"

Willow began hedging an answer, but Anya, becoming impatient again, snatched the phone away again and belted out the pure, unfettered, truth.

"It's because your boyfriend went psycho and beat the crap out of me."

"Whuh-what?"

Willow grabbed the phone back and, with a glare at her friend, attempted to put out the emotional brush fire Anya had started. "It didn't go down like that. Peter was in the same room as me, healing up. I was talking on the phone when he grabbed you and ran. If he was beating people up for fun, he could've started with me. I think the only reason why Anya was hurt is because he couldn't have gotten you out without her noticing."

Mary-Jane shook her head. "But that doesn't make any sense," she protested in a heated whisper. "Why would Peter want to leave?"

"I think it's because whatever is messing with us got to him?" Willow sighed. "And it kinda seems like he got totally fooled too."

"Oh man, that sucks," she lamented. Her eyes widened when she remembered the other reason she called. "Hey, do you think that I'm still being messed with? 'Cuz I just had the craziest dream..."

Mary-Jane then went on to explain said dream to an increasingly alarmed witch. When she was finished, Willow told her stay put and that she and Anya were on their way.

Willow dialed Buffy's cell, but it went directly to voice mail.


End file.
